Azure Present
by LSR-7
Summary: Sequel to Blue Memories. Please read that one first. Jane and Lisbon feel out their new relationship status. Some spoilers, AUish, Jisbon. Ch.18 changed story from T to M. T version of Ch. 18 also available. Rest of story rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Azure Present**

**Disclaimer:** The Mentalist show and characters are the property of Bruno Heller, Primrose Hill Productions, Warner Bros. Television and I'm sure others (CBS, etc.). I am not profiting from this story.

**Spoilers:** Leading up to and including Ep. 2.03 Red Badge and 2.08 His Red Right Hand after which the story in generally AU.

**Summary:** Sequel to Blue Memories.

**Author's Notes:** This is a continuation of my story "Blue Memories". Please read that first.

Yaba has been kind enough to stick with me for another story and has been diligently editing this story chapter by chapter. Thank you so much!

Please read (and hopefully enjoy) and be kind enough to leave me a review/comment. That would be most excellent.

**Chapter 1**

Jane awoke to soft curves pressed against him; warm, moist puffs of air blew against the base of his neck where his shirt was unbuttoned. He turned his head, his jaw coming in contact with slightly wavy brown hair. Lisbon was draped against him, an arm and leg possessively thrown over him. Well, they would seem possessive had they not been on her narrow couch. It was more likely she was keeping herself from falling off.

Jane stretched his body slowly, trying not to disturb his sofa partner and winced. His body ached; the thin cushions on Lisbon's living room couch certainly didn't hold a candle to his at the CBI headquarters. This piece of furniture was probably rescued from a college dorm. He knew, though, that he would continue to return to this couch for the woman in his arms.

And speaking of arms… his left one was numb with a hint of a tingle. Lisbon had slept on his left shoulder all night, head tucked against Jane's neck. He looked down at his dead arm, trying to move a finger. Nothing. The tingling was bothering him. He let out a sigh and let his head drop back against the seat arm, wincing again. His neck had a crick in it. He wasn't young anymore. _'No, it's the couch's fault,'_ he corrected himself. Surely it was, his leather couch was so much more comfy, rounded and worn in just right. This fabric atrocity had too many corners and paper thin cushions.

Lisbon shifted against him, his attention leaving his uncharitable thoughts about her furnishings and back to her and his arm pinned under her, not so much because it was numb, but because he wouldn't be able to hold her against him with that arm if she slipped off the edge. Okay, so yes, now that his attention was back on his tingly arm and not the crick in his neck or his aching back, his arm was once again bothering him. Teresa was at the forefront of his mind though. Mostly… only mostly because his arm was still pinned under her. As much as he loved having her lay against him like this in the quiet warmth of a curtained dimness, he wasn't a saint.

"Teresa," he breathed into her ear, right hand smoothing down her side.

They had been dating for a couple months now. On more recent Friday nights (when permitted by the case they were working) they'd have a movie night. Sleeping on the couch together was becoming a bit more common, but even now just a handful of times and mostly because the week had washed out Lisbon of any energy. He had feigned sleep once to let him sleep on her couch, though he suspected she knew, and even then she had somewhat surprised him by deciding to sleep with him.

Lisbon and Jane had not been in her bedroom together since he had carried her there after she had succumbed to the pain meds for her ribs. Not to say they hadn't enjoyed making out like a couple of teenagers a few times, but it hadn't gone beyond that. There was a silent understanding that the living room was a safe haven where they were mostly friends, and on occasion, chaste lovers of sorts.

Their libidos, however, were slowly awakening. Jane was able to appreciate beauty in women after the death of his wife, even feel some attraction, but beyond that nothing for several years. He was consumed by his path of destruction to get to Red John and forever mourning the loss of his wife and daughter. He had never taken a woman to bed since his wife. Teresa was tempting the hell out of him.

Lisbon had been focused on her career, which didn't give her much time for a personal life. Everyone she knew was related or associated with her job. She did have a few relationships with men that had lasted for several months, but never really went anywhere. Some of the blame certainly fell on her shoulders as she had unconsciously set herself up for failure, not being able to fully commit since she held her job in priority and her unacknowledged fear of the relationship itself. Then, the last few years, moving up the chain of command, promotion and transfer from SFPD to the CBI headquarters, all left her with little time to pursue romantic interests.

Two of her younger brothers had married, had children. There were brief moments when working in the dark office by herself that she had entertained a slight envy before pushing those feelings away and focusing on the papers in front of her again. Going east to visit her family, though she loved them, was painful at times. Somebody would ask, always, if she had someone in her life yet. Most of the adults finally stopped asking, but then her growing niece, ever curious, asked "Aunt Tessa" if she had a boyfriend and why didn't she? Had it been one of her brothers, she would have glared and turned on her heel (or just tell them to mind their own business… though more colorfully). For her young niece though, she just smiled and told her she scared them away. Boys have cooties anyway.

"Teresa," Jane spoke a little louder, hand now resting on Lisbon's hip. Barely a twitch.

He pinched her bottom which startled the woman out of her sleep. No, he certainly wasn't a saint.

He loved how the woman looked, tussled hair, surprised expression rapidly darkening into annoyance as she zeroed in on the cause of her conscious state.

"Did you pinch me?" she asked disbelievingly, holding herself up with her hands against his chest.

He shook his numb arm, trying to get the blood circulating again, seeing if he could move his fingers. Jane appeared to not be listening at all, a common occurrence.

"Jane!"

"Patrick," he corrected, finally looking up at her, "have you been packing some extra pounds? My arm is all numb- OW!"

Lisbon had smacked him on his chest and quickly vacated the couch. When she had sat up after having been rudely awakened the leg that had been over Jane's had slid between his, her knee grazing his crotch. An intimate position indeed, had he miscalculated he knew she wasn't above kneeing him.

He stayed lying on the couch, watching her hips swinging away from him as she headed to the bathroom. Her angry strut was quite attractive. He grinned to himself, the corners of his eyes creasing in enjoyment, then he turned his head to look at the ceiling. No Elvis here, but something that looked like either an elephant or a bull. He couldn't decide which.

He heard the shower go on upstairs and looked down at his rumpled clothes. He didn't wear a belt as he often napped, or pretended to and a belt would be awfully uncomfortable. Still, sleeping in slacks and waistcoat, no matter how worn in, wasn't fully practical or relaxing. Maybe he could leave an extra set of clothes here…

Jane moved from the couch, stretching up and rolling his head about, pausing as he feared having pulled a muscle. No, he's fine. His spine popped as he leaned back. He walked to the much better cushioned leather lounge chair and sank in. He let out a dreamy sigh. His back was feeling better already. He closed his eyes and found himself listening to the faint sound of Teresa showering, water trickling down the drain, the splashing as she moved under the hissing spray. It didn't take long for him to imagine a water slicked Lisbon… but as beautiful (and arousing) as the imagery was he stopped himself rather abruptly. No use having such thoughts now. He sat up, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing his hands down his thighs, forehead wrinkled. He pushed himself out of the chair and decided to busy himself with breakfast preparations. A blushing Patrick, too bad Teresa missed it.

Teresa blow dried her hair. Using the blow dryer usually caused her hair to have some volume to it, her natural wave showing. She pulled it back into a ponytail. It was the weekend and she wasn't going to spend much time on her hair. She did, however, apply her basic light makeup. Opening the bathroom door, the warm smells and sounds of something cooking in the frying pan wafted in. She flipped off the lights and fan and stepped out wearing blue jeans and grey t-shirt, which she didn't tuck in.

There were subtle differences in how she wore her clothes, did her hair when not on duty. A tucked in shirt and a blazer was definitely her casually professional look, fixing her hair whether by straightening iron or carefully groomed waves also part of her morning routine. The ponytail look came in on those days she was running late or her hair didn't feel like cooperating, and sometimes just because. She started taking just a little more time in getting herself ready for the day some time after a certain consultant joined the team. Not that she had noticed at first. When she finally did start realizing the extra time she was spending in choosing what shoes she wore to work (practical in function of course) and taking care of her hair she adamantly refused to admit to the reason why. Even now it was hard to admit, though she could finally say it had a little to do with the man who was apparently cooking breakfast. If that certain man made any mention, however, she would utterly deny it.

"What are you making?" Teresa asked as she leaned onto the counter next to Patrick. He had found her apron, clearly a birthday gift decorated by her niece and nephew. Mikey certainly had to have been laughing when he allowed his five-year-old daughter and seven-year-old son to choose the frilly pink thing for their aunt. Lady bugs, flowers, and a puppy appliqué were lovingly placed all over it. In truth, the apron was quite ridiculous in itself, especially having residence in Teresa Lisbon's kitchen, but it looked hilariously adorable on Patrick Jane. He looked like a dad preparing breakfast on Mother's Day.

"French toast," he replied, using a spatula to flip their breakfast, "Cute apron by the way. Why don't you ever wear it?"

He was clearly teasing her. She just quirked an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth pulling back just enough to cause that unique dimple. He gave her a cheeky grin and scraped the finished French toast onto a stack on a plate. He shut off the stove, placed the frying pan into the sink. Teresa stepped back to let him and picked up the plate taking it to the table.

She opened the cupboard above her and pulled out a mug. Coffee was percolating in the coffee maker squeezed onto the sparse counter space. Thank God Patrick hadn't ever tried talking her out of her caffeine. She wouldn't have stood for it. Tea had its place, but not for waking her up.

Fresh hot coffee in hand she walked over to the set table, her male companion already having started into his breakfast. Sitting down she noticed the peanut butter jar next to the syrup bottle in between them. _'Peanut butter?'_

"We're out of powdered sugar, I think you used it up on the cinnamon rolls last week," Jane told her, taking a sip of his tea.

She stared at his plate, swirl of melted peanut butter and syrup dripping off the edge where he had cut a piece off.

"Never tried peanut butter on your French toast or pancake?" he asked, looking up from his tea, clearly knowing the answer, but asking anyway, "It's good, you should try it."

She looked at him dubiously, but pulled a piece of toast onto her plate, dabbed some peanut butter onto a corner. Jane looked quite amused at her cautious tactics and resumed eating. He watched her as she finally took a bite, a thoughtful look on her face. It wasn't her favorite, but she liked it. He could tell. After she had chewed and swallowed she told him as much.

"Did you add some cinnamon in with the eggs?" she asked, taking another bite, no longer hesitant as she now welcomed the addition of French toast topping into her palate.

"A good chef doesn't give away their secrets," he teased.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responded finishing her plate.

That day's agenda was mostly just grocery shopping. Lisbon was still edgy about being seen with Jane outside of the office together as they had not told anyone of their relationship. On this Jane had been good, upon threat of denial and ending of relationship he had not, to date, done anything during work hours that would cause suspicion among their coworkers. Though, inevitably, their working relationship would reflect the change in their personal lives. Such changes were small, infinitesimal even. Lisbon still had her clear sense of duty, what was right, wrong, and the law. Those would not waver. The changes were in their interaction, between Lisbon and Jane. A few more looks between them, across the bullpen, a touch not quite lingering when passing items to each other. Nothing concrete, but certainly a subtle change of something the others couldn't quite identify.

As Lisbon cleared the plates, a question popped up, innocent and innocuous, "Why peanut butter? Some sort of carnie secret topping?"

The general, benign smile he often had on his face froze for a moment, unnoticed by Lisbon as she set plates into the sink. She glanced over her shoulder at him as she ran water over the dishes just in time to catch his face transition into a soft, wistful expression.

"No, just something my daughter decided to try," came the quiet answer. Jane placed the syrup and peanut butter in one of her cupboards. The kitchen became subdued as Teresa washed the dishes, regretting having brought up a touchy subject.

The last couple of years working together Patrick never spoke of his family other than in context of Red John. They were distant figures in his past, idolized as pure and innocent victims, but almost nonexistent and two dimensional for all that. He never spoke of them by name, didn't reminisce about the good times. There was the case file on them and that was all she knew. All personal touches about them nowhere to be found. It was off limits.

So it surprised Lisbon at his fragile admission of something personal like the topping his daughter used for French toast, acknowledging something of his past, viewing him as a father. Somehow it hadn't connected that he was both a husband and father despite knowing that he was, knowing that he "_was"_ being his whole reason to join CBI in the first case.

He stood beside her and took the washed plate in her hand, drying it with a kitchen towel. She glanced up at him to see he still had a slight smile.

"Teresa," he singsonged, "I know I'm handsome, but you're wasting water."

She stiffened, sniffed, and pointedly washed the dishes. Jerk.

Jane chuckled at her rough movements, "You're going to break something."

"Shut up," she bit out. Finished washing the dishes, she shut off the water and dried her hands. It irritated her how he was always amused by her irritation, a never ending and vicious cycle. She grabbed her keys and clutch off the table by the door, heading out. Jane hastily put away the last plate and jogged after her, knowing she could easily leave him behind. Fortunately, she was only mildly irritated so did not leave the passenger side door locked as she climbed into the car, allowing him to climb in as well. Seatbelts fastened, she pulled out of parallel parking to head to the grocery store.

"Let's go on a picnic," Patrick announced, warming to the idea.

She briefly looked over at him with a questioning look before resuming her watchful gaze over traffic, "Why?"

"Why not? It's a beautiful day, the sky is blue, birds are singing, we can find plenty of shade. We have the day off and good company. The perfect opportunity for a picnic," he enthused, his hands motioning in front of him. It was difficult not to follow along, and really no reason not to.

She gave a lopsided smile at him, eyebrow rising, "I don't know about the company," she snarked, "but yah. It is a good day. Why not?"

"And you could let me drive-"

"Let's not get carried away," she warned, half a smile on her lips partially joking, but her eyes were serious.

"Oh come on. I've driven before and as we are both fine that's testament enough that my driving is not dangerous," he insisted as she parked. She eyed him warily as she kept a firm grip on the keys as she drew them out of the ignition and pocketed them as she climbed out, locking the car doors.

"You-"

"-drive too fast," he finished for her as they walked into the store, sliding doors opening before them, "Come on, live a little."

"I intend to live a lot," taking on a slightly scolding tone as she pulled a cart out, "and so help me Jane-"

"Patrick."

"Whatever- I will not get into a car with you behind the wheel," she finished as they walked past the stacked soda boxes near the entrance.

"So you say now," he continued just for the sake of continuing, taking over pushing the cart, bumping her out of the way with his hip. She raised her hands up and stepped away from the cart, walking alongside it as they went up an aisle.

"So I say forever until you drive like a sane person," she picked up the brand of spaghetti noodles she liked, placing it in the cart. Their argument really wasn't an argument and carried on half-mindedly on her part as she kept her eyes roving across the aisles in search of sale items, comparable food products, store brand versus brand name, calculating price differences based on volume, weight, etc.

Patrick loved watching her shop. It was fascinating how different people behaved in all sorts of situations. There were the shoppers like her looking for the deals, mothers with all sorts of pre-clipped out coupons stuffed into their checkbooks, men who grabbed whatever looked good, harried husbands on the phone going straight to the back to pick up milk on the way home from work, and the meandering people who had nothing scheduled for the day and eyeing the deliciously unhealthy snacks.

Then there were the men giving his Teresa appreciative looks. Jane would admit he could be possessive. In previous years when he spoke of Red John and Red John cases, his adamant statement of "he's mine" was made quite clearly. Yet, he also liked to think of himself as a highly evolved male when concerned with women. Certainly he was aware of the possessive and protective caveman underneath who would like nothing more than to maul Lisbon publicly for all other males to see that she was his property; however, being evolved meant acknowledging that instinct and not acting on it as such. Besides, Lisbon would likely pulverize his face and manhood were he to act in such a way.

He would like to say that he was totally secure in their current relationship and didn't need to act in any way differently than he had been… but that wouldn't be quite true. They have been only formally acknowledging any sort of relationship beyond that of coworkers for only little more than two months, even if that acknowledgement was just between themselves. He had been aware of his attraction to her for far longer, his feelings for her cemented and clear to see after she had been shot and hospitalized. Lisbon gave the impression of being the person giving in to his demands.

He knew she enjoyed their relationship in her own way, but she could barely admit to herself, much less to him, that she liked him, though her actions spoke volumes more than the words she couldn't yet say. Such as letting him shop with her, sharing her couch and her company, unknowingly letting him watch as she reached up for an item on a shelf above her, her shirt riding up a bit for a tantalizing flash of pale skin.

He schooled his features as she turned to place the jar into the shopping cart, but some trace must have been left in his eyes as she caught sight of him, giving him a curious look. He flashed her a boyish grin and she let it go as some figment of her imagination. He cast an adoring look at her back as she walked along, a hand placed on the edge of the metal cart, leading them to another aisle. He probably looked like a fool in love, he didn't care. He was older and quite aware of how short life could be. He knew if he pushed too much Lisbon would dig her heels in and halt any forward progression.

Lisbon felt Jane's eyes on her. Not unusual, but at times disconcerting. Previously she had gotten used to the feeling, but it was different now, a different look she was getting from him. Just a moment ago she could swear he wanted to devour her. Perhaps not something a person in a relationship should worry about, even something they'd want to encourage, but it had been a while since she was last in a relationship with a man. By no means was she a virgin, but again, it's been a while, a few years at least. Taking it nice and slow and in controlled measures. Predictable.

That irked her, it was "irksome" as Jane would say. He has been as gentlemanly (and still his annoying self at the same time, which begged the question: can someone be called a gentleman while being annoying?) as he could, and hadn't pushed her other than the initial confrontation for her to accept expanding their relationship beyond that of coworkers. That he could read her so easily and act accordingly… didn't he have any uncertainty in their relationship? It bothered her for quite some time that his claims of being able to read her like an open book did appear to be true.

In most parts, even after she thought she knew him well, he still surprised her. The closest she got to predicting his actions was knowing he would probably do something, but not what he would do. If she was able to predict what he would do just even once a week, it would save her hours of fielding calls on harassment charges and law suits. She knew that being able to predict his actions was more likely to happen than him changing any time soon.

She paid for the groceries and both carried the bags to her car. Once at her home, they put together some food for their picnic. Teresa spent a moment wondering what else to bring. Something to sit on that could either be thrown away or washed easily. She dug into a closet, knowing she had a large beach towel somewhere in there. It was used rarely since she had not been to any beaches, nor gone swimming, for a while now. If it was a towel, she should keep it with the other towels. Such a pain- she finally found what she had been looking for. It was in a box from when she moved from San Francisco. She had been living in Sacramento for a couple years already and still hadn't unpacked everything. Had it really been that long since she last had use for a beach towel? It was almost depressing to think about. Shaking such thoughts from her mind and closed the closet door, choking on a gasp when she realized that Jane had been standing behind the door.

"Damnit, don't do that!" she shoved the towel into his chest which he fumbled with as his hands had been in his pockets. She turned away to go down the hall but he caught her arm, pulling her to him. She almost fell on him as she was pulled flush against him, her heart hiccupped at the sudden closeness, the warm man in front of her, noses brushing against each other. Patrick's arms were around her and he felt her rigid body, held in surprise. He loosened his hold, now certain she wouldn't fall, nor bolt from him, since she was blushing already, their faces so close for so long without movement, embarrassed with no reason as he stared into her eyes. She nervously looked away but sensed him moving in, her eyes closed. Lips pressed against lips, the stubble of his unshaven face lightly scratched her. She relaxed into his arms and held him back. His lips moved away from hers and pressed into her cheek, their warm breaths fanning over each other's skin. His lips moved again, to her ear, gently mouthing the edge of it before sliding down to her neck. It was at this point that Teresa finally pulled away, looking up at him. He generally didn't show much physical affection. The only times they had done similar were on the couch, only a couple times. Other than that instance it had been quick peck on the lips, goodnight kisses. Not that she was complaining, they were inside her house away from prying eyes.

"What's gotten into you?" she asked quietly, eyebrow cocked. Their foreheads touched, she leaned her head away to look at his face properly. Being so close made her feel she was going cross-eyed.

He gave her a small smile, enjoying having her body pressed into his. He spoke, "Don't get mad."

"Why would I get mad? You didn't manage to cause an incident in the five minutes I wasn't watching you, did you?" she joked, then slightly seriously, "You didn't break something, did you?"

"Nothing of the sort, woman," he chuckled, "I've been wanting to do that since the store."

A funny grin stole across her face, "Shopping turns you on?"

He loved that expression on her face, "Would you believe it if I said 'yes'?"

She laughed, "Maybe I would. You're crazy enough, but something tells me that isn't it."

He leaned in again, bringing his mouth to her ear and whispered, "What if I told you that I wasn't fond of other men staring at you? Though I can certainly understand why they'd want to."

"Okay, now I know you're joking," she laughed and patted him on his chest, pulling away from his arms, but giving him a flirtatious smile while doing so. He picked up the beach towel off the floor and reached out for her hand before she got to the stairs.

"Oh believe me, my dear Teresa, you are quite the attractive woman," he insisted as they walked down the stairs. She gave him that smile that said "yeah right" but didn't comment.

Perhaps she was being a bit modest, she knew she was likely pretty by modern conventions, but didn't really think much of it. There were other things to think about, that and on those days she sometimes stared into the mirror after a shower she would notice those little things most people wouldn't notice unless it was pointed out. Things like her uneven eyes, at least she thought they were uneven, or how her mouth quirked a bit more to one side than the other when she smiled. Then there were her freckles. She couldn't decide if they were an attractive or unattractive quality. She didn't think of it often, just once in a while when she had a vain moment to herself in front of the bathroom mirror. There was also the slight bit of a paunch to her stomach. She was pretty fit, worked out and was likely fitter than some of her colleagues who, in their later years, no longer cops on the beat, but agents, had let themselves go. Despite that, she was still a woman and was not immune to all those little insecurities that many women had whether they were warranted or not.

Though they've not discussed them, Patrick was certain he had picked out all of these insecurities (and he had).


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading and special thanks to Yaba my editor and to my reviewers!

Because of the huge response to the first chapter I've decided to post the second chapter today instead of in two or three days. Thank you all!

Yaba (My first reviewer! How awesome is that? Yah, I thought it was cute too with the squished Jane. In movies and such they show couples sleeping together like that, all romantic and perfect, but even sleeping by myself I've woken up with an arm that was asleep, imagine someone else sleeping on it all night?), Chiisana Minako (I'm glad I made you smile with that line. Ah cookies! All your treats are fatteningly delicious to both body and ego! As for thinking Lisbon is being a bit cold… that's all you lol!), mwalter1 (Glad you look forward to more!), Hikaru Ceres (One of your favorite authors? Wow, thanks for that and reading!), Charmed225 (Thanks!), GibbsIsMyGod, Famous4it, lisbon69, ThranduilsDaughter (Be amazed at how I overcame the temptation for them to rip their clothes off lol!), MK (I'm glad that you're so happy about this), Odakota Rose, HOUSEM..

Thank you all and please leave a review/comment.

**Chapter 2**

At the park they walked along a lake for a while, the sunlight glancing off the waters, giving the appearance of dancing shapes as ripples came across. From the bag Patrick carried, he produced two baseball mitts and a ball. He must have picked them up off her shelves while she was searching for the beach towel. They walked some distance away from the lake and played catch for a while.

"You have a pretty good arm for someone whose last experience with a baseball was being hit in the head with one," Teresa called out with a sardonic grin.

"A low blow, but I did grow up with a traveling attraction if you recall," he said after a returning pitch.

"How could I forget? It only makes sense you were raised by carnie folk," she teased, gripping the ball between her thumb and three fingers. She could almost imagine him at the carnival knocking over metal bottles, outmaneuvering rigged games. At the same time she found it difficult imagining him as a child. Did he wear suits then too? Come to think of it, she could only think of two instances she had seen him in anything other than his three piece suits. That one time when the whole team was at a motel, she had seen him in his pajamas after he had received the false Red John note. They had known he didn't get any sleep, she had ordered him to see the psychiatrist to get some sleep aids. Then there was that time he spent in jail after bugging Bosco's office. Of course he'd wear his prison issue clothes with the top tucked in.

Teresa reached up with her mitt and caught the ball sailing towards her, throwing it back. The man was wearing yesterday's suit. It was a bit rumpled, the expensive material could only take so much abuse before showing creases and wrinkles. She almost felt embarrassed, she hadn't asked if he wanted to go home for a change of clothes before going out.

"Hey, Patrick," she called out after tossing the ball around a few more times.

"Yes?" he answered attentively. He held the leather ball in front of him in both hands, resting them against his stomach. She waved him over, not wanting to yell across the park where families and other couples were walking, playing. He walked towards her, throwing the ball at her as he came. She caught it, the sound of leather on leather satisfying as the mitt closed around the baseball. The same ball and mitt she's had since her tenth birthday.

"Don't you want to go change? I wouldn't feel comfortable wearing the same clothes for two days in a row, you haven't even changed out of them for sleeping," she voiced her concern and they walked to where they left their bag and his suit jacket.

"Is that an invitation?" he smiled, tilting his towards her. Perfect, she was bringing up a concern of his from this morning without maneuvering on his part.

"An invitation for what?" she looked a bit confused. They spread the beach towel between them under the shade of a tree.

"For me to keep some clothes over at your place," he stated, lying down on the large towel, hands behind his head. The picture of relaxation, much like when he was on his couch at the CBI. Though that image could be deceiving, which Lisbon knew well.

She paused, backtracking in her thoughts over their short conversation that led to this point. She has only seen him in the same suit two days in a row when they were on a case and didn't leave the office (and even then they usually kept spare clothes in their lockers or desk, or office in her case, for such situations), had an impromptu overnight in a nearby town, and at her place when he ended up sleeping on her couch.

"Come on, let's look at some clouds," Patrick suggested, patting the space next to him encouragingly, changing the subject as she took too long to answer. At her wary look, he grinned at her, "Don't worry, I won't bite… if you don't want me to."

She snorted at that and promptly lay down, though she put some space between them, quite a feat considering that the towel was only so large. He pulled one hand out from underneath his head and searched out hers between them. She looked over at him, but he was staring up at the sky. They hadn't really gone out together anywhere before, though he had suggested it on several occasions. She had been preoccupied with keeping their personal time personal.

You never knew when you might bump into someone from work out in real life and so they stayed in her home, only going out together for groceries, a couple times for coffee (or tea in Jane's case) since that was an acceptable activity coworkers may indulge in after hours. Going to the park together was definitely difficult to see as anything other than a dating activity when there were no other people with them. When held her hand in his as they lay next to each other on one beach towel watching clouds together. Yet somehow she was able to allow it, to forget that they were in a public place with the warm air surrounding them, distant shouts of children carried to them by the wind, the sound of water underneath it all.

Patrick's left hand covered her right and she decided to turn her palm up under his and spread her fingers, their fingers interlacing. She was reminded again that he no longer wore his wedding band, had removed it right in front of her that one night. It made her wonder how he had come to decide to do that, why then?

"Patrick-?"

"Doesn't that one look like a rabbit?" he interrupted, using his right hand to point.

"Huh? Uh, yah, I think," she allowed herself to be sidetracked momentarily, "Patrick?"

He lowered his arm, still looking up at the blue sky, "Yes?"

"How did you decide to take off your ring?" Teresa was looking over at him, wondering if the question was too private. He didn't look surprised at all, as if he had been expecting her to ask and in fact he had been wondering why it took so long for her to.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he gave her a secretive smile, turning his head to her briefly.

"Seriously."

"There's a woman I like. I imagined that she'd like to know I was available," he looked over at her again, giving her a quasi-serious look, "I find her very attractive, she's a bit on the short side though…"

She glared at him, "Do you _want_ me to smack you?"

His teeth showed in a mischievous grin and he quickly leaned over, surprising her with a kiss, rolling back to look at the sky again.

She gave him an incredulous look, glancing around as if she expected the DA to suddenly materialize. She was sitting up now.

"You know, you're cute when you panic," he said, gazing up at her. He couldn't resist.

"Jane!"

"Patrick."

"Whatever, you shouldn't do that in public, we could get caught," she whispered furiously.

"Relax, we're grown adults and no one is around. If you're so worried about being seen with me, why did you agree to a picnic?" to be honest he was ever so slightly irritated by her behavior, though he tried to shake it off, let it go.

"You're right," she admitted, still self-conscious.

His eyebrows raised a little, astonished. That was a first. She stayed sitting up, but their hands were still laced together.

"I took the ring off because you deserve the full commitment of someone who cares for you."

'_Does he really mean that?'_ she thought, thinking of all possible implications of his statement. What of Red John? She was too afraid to ask.

"Teresa?" he quietly asked, she looked down at him.

"Yes?"

"Could you give me a sandwich, I'm hungry."

The moment was officially over, she rolled her eyes, but was also glad for the break in the mood. Teresa complied and reached for the bag next to her, pulling out one of the sandwiches for him. He sat up, "Thanks," and took the proffered food. She pulled out some water and pre-packed fruit pieces they had bought at the store.

"Do you have any other clothes?" she finally asked after swallowing a piece of watermelon. Unexpected seemed to be a theme… but then again it was an earlier topic.

"Of course, you've seen my other suits," he answered blandly, taking another bite, just to see her get frustrated.

The predictable irritated sigh came, "You know what I mean."

"What? You don't like seeing me in a suit? I was under the impression that I look quite dashing in a suit," he gave her a wounded look.

"Be that as it may-"

"So you think I'm dashing. I'll remember that," a wide smile transformed his face. It could be described as "sunny", though knowing his past it was a difficult label to attach to him under normal circumstances as he was a rather jaded individual.

"Fine, you're dashing," she admitted, eyes rolling again at his triumphant smile, "in fact, I'd say you're as dashing as Harrison Ford. You know, in that aging way. At least your hair hasn't gone grey yet. He looks good as a silver fox, but I'm not so sure you would-"

He was shaking a finger at her, a bemused expression on his face, "You- you are a very- I'm upset, you make me upset. You are a very upsetting woman."

She actually giggled and covered her mouth with one hand. He was practically sputtering. His pride took a slight hit, even knowing she wasn't serious… mostly. He ran a hand through his hair insecurely for once.

"Oh Patrick, you're not really worried are you?" Teresa said, finally calming down, though she was still smiling. She couldn't bring herself to kiss him, but instead patted him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him, "You are a very handsome man, as if you didn't already know. Though, it's good to see I can knock you down a peg."

"I can't see how I would ever forgive you," he said, playing up being miffed at her.

"Even if I told you, you could keep pajamas at my place? Just in case?" she told him gently, amused.

His arms were crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised in interest, "Maybe I'll forgive you if you asked me to move in?"

She pushed his shoulder, causing him to fall over, "Don't push your luck."

He smiled up at her, "Don't blame a man for trying," and promptly yanked her down.

"Jane!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** As per usual my gratitude to Yaba and my reviewers, each review I get fills me with happiness since it lets me know what you think about how the story is doing.

Thanks to: Hikaru Ceres (I too have been enjoying the winter Olympics. Been watching it as I type and read. Yes, I've been pretty fluffy as well as answering a question left over from Blue… as to see if the team knows, well, you'll just have to wait and see…), Odakota Rose (Yes, that was probably one of my favorite moments from that chapter), Charmed225, GibbsIsMyGod, lisbon69 (Well, stressed out by PDA in combination with the fact that she's going against CBI regulations… as for being vertically challenged, or really not vertically challenged as having weedy boys, good luck with that. Maybe you should train like Lisbon and learn to tackle huge men? LOL!), mwalter1, lisbonloafers (Thank you, I think I was watching TV and saw Harrison Ford in a story about the new movie based on a true story? So he was on my mind… and prison clothes, when I first saw that episode I just about laughed seeing Jane come around the corner in prison clothes, tucked in properly. Of course. This is the man who wears three piece suits every day.), Tallie14, lilybean123, yaba (Yes… and Jane likes picnics… or maybe an excuse to get out of the office, which a picnic was a way out? At least there was no raining of bodies from the sky this time…), MK (Yes, I really can't imagine Jane with gray hair, can you? Maybe it's because of his already sandy blond hair, but then again I guess if I've only seen Harrison Ford as Han Solo it would be difficult to then imagine him as he is now… It is very fun to take jabs at Jane's vanity. You'd have to be pretty vain to want so much attention and knowing you're right all the time.), phoenixmagic1.

**Chapter 3**

They got home mid-afternoon, a definite glow to their faces as Lisbon had forgotten to bring sun screen. If only she could tan, but no. She may not have red hair, but she did get the Irish freckles and perhaps more would join after their time in the sun, despite having been in the shade. Of course Jane would likely darken, or maybe the redness would just disappear, and his sun bleached locks would lighten a hint more. Now that was a mystery.

What did he do on weekends alone that would give him sun bleached hair when through the weekdays he was usually in the office, napping on the couch? And the weekends, these last few months in any case, he had usually been spending with her, indoors. She couldn't imagine him surfing or sunbathing at the beach, nor could she see him hiking park trails for any length necessary for the phenomena to occur. He didn't seem to be the outdoorsy type. More like the kind of guy who may tour a vineyard or orchard. Maybe he slept on park benches on weekends. Now _that_ she could imagine.

She had just closed the door and set her keys down on the table when her cell rang. Glancing down at it, she saw it was Mikey. She flipped the phone open, shooing Jane away who was hovering over her, stealing a glance at her phone display.

"Hey Mikey," she greeted.

"_Hey Tessa, been a while. Just calling to see how you're doing,"_ her brother's voice could be heard clearly, even to Jane, who could hear from his position in the kitchen, putting things away. She walked over to the living room and sat in a cushioned armchair.

"Doing good. How are Sue and the kids?"

"_Great, Terry started soccer camp. Been trying to get him into tee ball, but it hasn't been working so far. I'll keep on trying though. We put Sara in ballet, you know how she likes princess stuff, she's only five though, so we're not thinking she'll really stick with this. We'll see."_

"I understand," Teresa smiled into the phone, she could imagine little Sara wearing a tutu and princess crown. Come to think of it, she had seen her niece wearing those items before, though not in ballet at the time, just playing dress up.

"_No more doctor visits?"_

"No more doctor visits, got a clean bill of health and had my last check-up a month ago."

"_How are things going with Patrick?"_ she could hear the insinuation in his voice. They last spoke a week after she had given in to Jane, but she had not told her family about the status change. Mostly, because she didn't want to hear them bugging her about marriage again. Suddenly her cell phone was yanked out of her hand.

"HEY!" Lisbon yelled, turning in her seat to see a grinning Jane with her phone pressed to his ear.

"I'm doing fine, thank you for asking," he answered, already striding away from his upset partner who was trying to get the phone back.

There was a little surprised, but welcome sound from Michael's end, _"Hello Patrick, good to hear. Where are you guys?"_

Teresa lunged for the phone, but Patrick held the phone above their heads while twirling out of the way, speaking up so Michael could hear, "We're home, in Teresa's home. By the way, she knows."

"_Knows what?"_ came Michael's laughing voice, now quite obvious he could hear their scuffle. Teresa just cursed at them both and aimed to have Jane in a headlock.

"We're in a relationship," Patrick announced, then grunted as Teresa tackled him to the floor, her phone bouncing out of his hand.

"_Congrats man. You guys okay? Hello?"_

Teresa mouthed, "I hate you," to the winded Jane and reached for her phone, giving him a warning glare, daring him to do something. He put up his hands, still lying on his back on the floor, having said what he wanted to say to her brother.

"Ignore what the idiot was saying. He doesn't know anything," she said, sitting on the floor next to the aforementioned "idiot".

"_I'm glad to hear you're happy, you should have told us. We've been worrying,"_ replied Mikey, not believing her one bit and finding her reaction very entertaining, _"This is really good news. It's not every day you find a guy who knows everything about you and not afraid to go for it anyway."_

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused. Jane quietly listened, capable of hearing both sides of the conversation as she was currently ignoring him since he hadn't made any moves.

"_Well, you know, people can be squeamish after finding out about our childhood sometimes,"_ he replied, starting to wonder if he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Well, yes, I suppose, but what exactly do you mean?" her eyes were now trained on Jane who was giving her a rather innocent look, though he was starting to squirm internally.

"_Didn't he tell you? I mean, you were still in a coma, we just got to talking, had a couple beers at your place like the day after I got there…"_ he trailed off sensing that his older sister wasn't taking this bit of information lightly. God, he hoped he wasn't stirring up trouble between Patrick and Tessa already just minutes after finding out they were now more than coworkers.

"No, he didn't say anything. You know what? We just got back, it's nice hearing from you, send my love to Sue and the kids, I'll talk to you later. Bye," and she hung up, her gaze still pinning Jane to the floor, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"What was there to say?" and knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say. Her warm green eyes were decidedly frosty now, "Teresa-"

"Jane, that's personal information that I hadn't given permission to be released to you. I can't stop Mikey from telling you things, but it'd be nice to be told that he told you about- about that."

"I understand," he said softly, not liking how upset she was. Lisbon was a very private person, everyone knew that. Her professionalism was a shield at work, after all there must have been a reason for why she insisted that the team call each other by their surnames and not discuss personal things in the office. At least she used to. That stance had been relaxing little by little over the past couple years, though not yet by much.

"I understand that you are upset about finding out from your brother a few months after the fact rather than me telling you, but the right time didn't seem to come up. You were in the hospital recovering and then we just did our thing and it just never came up. I understand that you wished it was you, I wished it was you opening up to me as well, but it was Michael. We were having a male bonding moment, both of us distressed by you being in the hospital as you were. Can I get off the floor now?"

Her lips were pressed tightly, but she backed up and picked herself up off the floor as well.

"What exactly did Michael tell you?" she pushed, arms crossed protectively in front of her as she stared at him, waiting for her answer.

"Let's sit down-" he tried to calm her.

"Just tell me," she ordered, not budging.

He planted his hands in his trouser pockets, studying his shoes for a moment. He already felt impending doom coming from the woman across from him; in the mood she was in he was likely to be tossed out of her home for the weekend even without him adding to it.

"He told me about what a great sister you are," Jane started, wishing she'd let him off with that, glancing up to see her expression told him she wouldn't, so he continued, "he told me about how it was growing up, from when your mother died to him serving in Somalia. How you took a job washing dishes so that all of you could eat, because your father used all his money to drink. You protected your brothers the best you could and they know that, they love you."

Teresa's face was no longer hard, having relaxed much, and perhaps realizing that she had overreacted a bit. Feeling slightly foolish didn't help since she still had her pride and her pride often interfered with her decisions.

"You had to grow up before you should have," Patrick added, a slight smile coming into play, "I admire that. Not everyone can, but I'm sure after working for CBI, SFPD, and wherever else, you've seen plenty of others in a similar situation that you had. Plenty of people run away from that, but you didn't. You stayed and raised your brothers."

"I did what I had to, there wasn't a choice," Lisbon said matter-of-factly, almost angrily, arms still crossed tightly across her chest. She was no longer glaring at him, her guarded stance reminded him of that day that seemed so long ago now, when Dr. Carmen had framed her for murder. The two of them standing much like they were now, in her living room.

"There's always a choice, Teresa, you made the right one," he gently insisted. He knew she was uncomfortable with praise and admiration. She only wanted to do her job, find the people responsible for the crime, and be satisfied with that. He also knew that she secretly did like some recognition, simple words from her supervisor telling her she did a good job, not media attention.

People were their own worst critics though, and this rang true for Teresa Lisbon, so she found it difficult to accept most praise, especially if she wasn't satisfied with the results. She knew nothing just falls into your lap, that in a just world you should be able to work hard and get what you want. However, it wasn't a just world and she had to work harder than some people, survive a drunk and abusive father, survive being an orphan even before her father died, then work even harder to not only keep her family together, but also give them all a chance to survive and flourish.

Patrick noted that Teresa's face was closing down, blanking, which was a very telling expression for her. He knew that what she would say next, he would most likely not want to hear, and it was probably more than her asking him to leave the premises. He steeled himself for impact.

"Jane," she began, confirming his suspicions by use of his surname during their private time, "what choice will you make? You told me earlier that taking your ring off was your way of giving me your full commitment, that I deserve your full commitment…"

Jane was frozen, waiting for her to complete what she began, knowing that what she was about to do was part of her pattern with her previous relationships, or at least that was his own assumption. She couldn't help but try to doom a relationship before it barely began. Well, perhaps that is what he would be thinking had it not been happening to himself. It is difficult to judge and observe something with a cool head when it is happening to you.

"…does that include giving up your revenge?"

The silence was deafening. They stared at each other impassively, though Jane was thinking frantically. Was he ready to give up on revenge? He knew she wasn't referring to them just giving up on the Red John case. She believed in justice, but her justice meant finding and arresting the elusive Red John, locking him behind bars to let the California justice system to do as it may with judge and jury, defense lawyers, prosecutor, and all with the serial killer alive. And even if he was found guilty on all counts and given the death penalty, that was still years of him alive with possibility of escape, of delaying his death sentence, a whole can of worms.

The only definite way was to kill the bastard as soon as possible. Red John was too intelligent and conniving to trust to even high security, solitary confinement. Jane couldn't trust that they'd be able to keep him in jail, but could also no longer say definitively that he would thrust a knife and enjoy watching him bleed out as the bastard had to Jane's own wife and child.

His silence was too long.

"Jane," Lisbon said forlornly, defeated, but shoring up the cracks with her reserve strength, "you're not ready for the kind of relationship I thought we might be heading for. Please just go."

He didn't move a muscle, he did not want this. He wanted her, he wanted her and the joy she brought to his otherwise meaningless life. All he had left was to avenge his slaughtered family, the only thing. He couldn't let her end this.

"No," he finally spoke, stiffening as if ready to fight her, to stop her from dragging him out of her house.

"Jane," her voice almost cracked, but she breathed in and settled herself, "you yourself told me I deserve your full commitment and clearly I don't have that. I'm not getting any younger here. I can't wait around for you to decide if I'm worth it. Either I am or I'm not. If you can't answer then you're not ready and you don't think I'm worth more than your revenge. I can't wait for you. Let's just cut our losses now and get over it. It's better in the long run, it'll just hurt more if we wait. Please leave."

She couldn't wait for him? Suddenly he was furious, his hands clenched in his pockets. She couldn't wait for him. He had waited for her for so long and she couldn't wait for him? He needed to think, that's all. It was a lot to think about. He had spent every waking hour, every restless minute thinking about the horrific murder of his family, of how he would find Red John, even in sleep it often wasn't far from his mind. He had been thinking about all this for more than six years and she couldn't wait even the day for him to rethink his plans?

Patrick felt pain in his chest as his heart seemed to hammer against his ribs, he could feel the pounding in his head as a buzzing in his ears started, he felt fevered and was almost shaking in rage. His fist was in the living room wall, shocking both of them. He pulled it out and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Teresa's eyes were round, her mouth opened in surprise.

"Shit."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** Thank you Yaba/Yana as always.

Thanks to the following who took the time to leave a review: mwalter1 (Yah, poor Jane was pretty much shot down before he could try to explain, but I hope you found it something that could have happened with Lisbon's character.), Country2776, ThranduilsDaughter (LOL! Yes, he is Jane and prone to doing stupid things, or genius things that appear stupid… :-P), Charmed 225 (Thanks for the support!), yaba (I'm glad you thought the last chapter was a nice set up for the rest of the story. You have the unique advantage of knowing where the story is going…), Hikaru Ceres (Thank you for your compliments. I think I meant for people to sympathize with both of them, but for sure realize Lisbon's mistake along with her. Jane just needed some more time.)

Please read and review! I read each and every one, sometimes there's a question or comment in there that helps me with the story.

**Chapter 4**

Teresa sat staring at the wall for over an hour. She had oscillated between going after Patrick and letting him cool off, but ultimately decided to stay home. She had started crying after some of the shock wore off, but had forced herself to stop. Tears never did anything, she knew that from personal experience. She had done it again. Something good was happening in her personal life and she had to sabotage it. It was a defense mechanism. Though maybe she had been right; after all, Jane had left a hole in her wall. Who knows what he may do to her had they stayed in a relationship?

Deep down she knew that wasn't true, Patrick would never bodily harm her, or anyone else… except Red John. He had calmly told her over a year ago how he would enjoy slowly bleeding the murderer. Instead of focusing on the fact that he didn't cheerfully tell her he was still planning to kill Red John himself like he had that time in her office in what seemed like a lifetime ago, rather than seeing his hesitance as a big step in the right direction, she focused on the fact that he didn't say anything at all. He didn't say he would drop his revenge.

She had noticed the blood on the wall, on the edge of the hole. She wondered if he had broken any bones, wondered where he went, but was not brave enough to look for him, or even to try and call him. This is what she wanted. She wanted him to leave and she achieved that. She could feel the pressure in her eyes as tears dared to threaten her. No, she would not cry! Crying didn't solve anything, crying doesn't stop a drunk father from hitting you and it certainly wouldn't reverse what had happened earlier.

She needed to move on.

The CBI senior agent had, however, used all her reserve strength in telling a man she had come to love to leave her. It didn't take but a moment for her to crumple up in her chair with tears coursing down her face as she tried to stop herself from shaking with the sobs that caught at her throat.

At least she had never told him.

***

Teresa spent Sunday lying in bed. She would have spent the night on the couch, but had forced herself to go upstairs. Staying in the living room would remind her of what she had lost, from the hole in the wall to the couch that she had slept on Friday night with… that man.

She had fallen asleep sometime when the birds had started chirping, just before sunrise. She lay awake now, just staring at her bedroom ceiling. She hadn't felt like eating even when her stomach had protested, but it had stopped hours ago, had she not already been in a daze, she would have been. The petite brunette reserved this day for pity, because come hell or high water, she would be in at work Monday morning on time as usual. It wouldn't matter if she felt like crap, like she no longer had a heart, crime would still be waiting for her to solve. It's happened before; she survived and continued to work. If only it didn't hurt so much every time. This felt worse than her previous break ups. Previous break ups had been with men who weren't quite right with her in the first place, men she had subconsciously chosen knowing their relationship would fail.

So that the twisted part of herself could say "I knew it wouldn't work, there are no men right for me". This time was different, this time she didn't mean to get into a relationship. He had coerced her against her better judgment. It was against regulations. It was against regulations. Somehow that didn't cheer her up.

On Monday she would go to work and face Jane like an adult. They would be professional and pretend none of this ever happened. He was so good at hiding his feelings after all, he had been a conman, and she was a detective, a senior agent, hardened and jaded after working in law enforcement for almost two decades.

***

Monday morning Teresa Lisbon managed to drag herself out of bed, shower, put her hair up into a ponytail, and choked down half a bagel she didn't feel like eating. It wouldn't do for her to collapse at the office and cause a commotion. She had to spend some extra time on her make up trying to hide the bags under her eyes and eye drops to dissipate the lingering redness.

Lisbon got to the office just in time. Striding through the building, she braced herself to see Jane on his couch. She walked into the bullpen, making a beeline for her office, glancing out of the corner of her eye only to find that Jane was not at his couch. Grace was the only one from the team who was present; Cho would arrive exactly on time and Rigsby… usually on time with Cho, but sometimes a minute late.

Lisbon tried not to let Jane's absence bother her. He had his own time schedule. Sometimes he was late as he was buying coffee or breakfast donuts and/or muffins for the team, or at least that would be his excuse. Most times he was already at the office, she knew those were the days he slept over at the CBI.

A quick nod to Van Pelt, who had greeted her, and she made it to the office, closing the door and drawing the blinds. She believed she may have seen a hint of concern cross Grace's face. Did the young agent pick up on her inner turmoil already? No, maybe she imagined it.

It was about an hour later after having first arrived at the office that she ventured out in search of coffee. Someone had started a pot. Jane was on his couch, arms crossed and eyes closed. She wondered when he got there, but waved it off. Cho and Rigsby greeted her from their desks, each having been checking their e-mail much as she had been.

Lisbon arrived at the break room, grabbing her coffee mug from the drying rack by the sink and poured herself some coffee, pulling creamer out of the fridge, pausing and eyeing the yogurt drinks Rigsby had yet to get to this week. No, just coffee, she had that bagel earlier so her stomach should be fine and having been a caffeine addict for years she generally didn't get stomach aches drinking it on an empty stomach in any case. She wondered if she and Grace were still on for Wednesday night yoga (barring a late night case). She'll have to see if she was up for it in the next couple days. It was a great stress reliever.

Once back inside her office, door closed, she remembered that Jane would usually bring her first coffee on Mondays. She tried to keep her mind on other things, but she had already checked her e-mail, nothing much, her paperwork was all in order. She'd usually just hang out in the bullpen with her team until they got another case, but she didn't really feel like socializing, especially with Jane just there, on his couch. No, screw it, she just had to get over it. With that in mind, the brunette decided to go talk with Van Pelt, like she would on a typical day.

Lisbon stepped out of her office, coffee mug in hand, and walked over to the younger woman's desk.

"Hey Grace, anything new?"

The junior agent looked up from her computer monitor and smiled, "Not really, I went and saw a movie over the weekend though."

"Oh yeah? What was it?" Lisbon asked, being pulled into a natural flow of conversation. Her mind was taken off of herself, focusing elsewhere. She miscalculated though, as conversing meant a give and take between the people involved and that meant…

"How was your weekend?" asked Van Pelt, innocently curious, unknowingly reminding Lisbon why she had debated leaving her office.

"Lisbon, my office," called Minelli.

'_Thank God for small favors,'_ she thought as she gave the red-haired agent an apologetic smile and left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** Well, I think it's obvious we have a dose of angst here, because everything can't just fluffy rainbows and sunshine… lol! Seriously, it wouldn't be "realistic" (realistic for Mentalist anyway) if it was all happy fluff.

Thank you yaba for all your editing prowess! It makes my stories a better read.

Thank you to the following for reviewing: Hikaru Ceres (I realize I have a lot of Jane and Lisbon's thinking processes written so I'm glad you're into it. As for Minelli giving them a case… well, you can start reading! I'm glad you chose to be emotionally invested in this story! Thanks!), MK (Do they even have a new guy yet? Well, this story is supposed to be AUish going off on its own tangent so I can keep Minelli if I want, although he is barely more than a two dimensional character who gives out cases in this story. I wish he didn't retire either.), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (You'll have to wait at least another chapter for what you want.), The Lonely Fox (Thanks!), krolinette (Wow, thank you for being addicted to my stories! Please don't forget to eat and shower lol! ;-P), phoenixmagic1 (lol, have a little faith ;-), april (glad you like it!), and yaba (You get a thank you at least twice every chapter! Yes… "weird" is one way to phrase that lol! I'm glad you thought she stayed in character.)

Please read and review!

**Chapter 5**

Lisbon strode to the bullpen, a case file in her hands, and called the team's attention, "Alright team, we have a case."

She walked over near the couch Jane still occupied and, after giving him a glance, sat on the edge of his desk, facing the rest of her team.

"We got a call from Acton, it's a small community about an hour away from LA. It looks like someone was found dead from a shooting. They need us because they only have a volunteer patrol and haven't handled murder investigations before. Bad news, due to budget cuts we'll be driving there, about a six hour drive, we'll also be staying at least a day so Grace I'll need you to call around and find us a motel or hotel in or near there. We'll take be taking two cars, so get your bags and meet me in the parking lot in ten. We'll stop by a store on the way out of here to grab some lunch to go."

Lisbon marched off to her office to pick up her overnight bag and headed out to sign out the CBI issued cars. Grace saw Jane still lying on his couch with his eyes closed and decided that though he was probably awake, it wouldn't hurt to make sure he knew what was going on. She walked over to the couch and called out to him, "Jane? Are you awake?"

No answer, but then his eyes opened, almost surprising her at the suddenness. They looked tired and hollow.

"We're driving out for an overnight trip, get your things," she told him gently. There didn't appear to be any reaction, "Jane?"

"I heard you," he grunted in such a way as to make the young agent wonder if he had actually been asleep during their briefing. He finally sat up and she saw him wince, she then noticed his hand. His left hand was wrapped in bandages and appeared to be swollen.

"Jane! What happened to your hand?" she asked, a bit shocked, his fingers appeared to be bruised, ugly blue and green and scabbed knuckles.

The consultant glanced down at his hand as if noticing it for the first time, though the painkillers he had taken had been wearing off and he was very aware of each beat of his heart as it caused his hand to throb. He gave her a quick smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I had an accident, nothing to worry about."

Van Pelt looked at him doubtfully, but needed to get her things together and visit the restroom quickly before heading out so she left him. The others had already gone, Cho kept his things in his bottom drawer, extra pants, shirt, underwear, and toiletries. Rigsby kept his overnight bag in his locker, as did Van Pelt. Jane kept his bag in his otherwise unused desk. Pajamas, suits, toothbrush, the works. He practically lived at the CBI during the weekdays anyway.

Jane carefully gathered what he needed using his right hand, left hand protectively cradled against his body. He hadn't visited a hospital as he had needed to cool down after leaving Lisbon's home. He had gone to his car, somehow managed not to be pulled over by police as he sped away, and had gone to his house, pacing around the outside of it, wanting to hit something again despite his throbbing hand. He didn't like hospitals and figured that even if his hand was broken, there really wasn't anything they could do but wrap it up and give him painkillers. He could do that on his own. He regretted losing his temper as he had, a hole in the wall would remind Lisbon of what had happened every time she looked at it. He wasn't a violent man by nature, but he had shown her he could be. How could he face her after that? She acted normally today though, he knew that she had to force the appearance of normalcy, and that made him feel ever so slightly better, but not much.

He had spent the remaining weekend in his house, the macabre smiling face above him. Popping over the counter ibuprofen barely took the edge off the pain in his hand and did nothing at all for the pain in his chest. He developed a headache that night. Between his heartache, headache, and what was likely to be a broken hand, he didn't get much sleep at all Saturday night.

Sunday he had decided that ibuprofen hadn't been enough and got some red wine. It worked temporarily, but this morning he had a hangover on top of his other ailments. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He would try to sleep it off in the back of the car. He didn't care which car he was in as long as he had the back to himself.

Jane got down to the parking lot, a black SUV running, Lisbon behind the wheel and Cho sitting shot gun. Lisbon spotted him and waved him over, a worried look on her face as she seemed to be trying to get a good look at his hand. Well, apparently dear Grace had told her about his condition before taking off with Rigsby, most certainly going ahead to get the large agent his huge lunch and lots of snacks. Tattle and run. He squinted into the sun and carefully made it to the SUV, opening the back passenger door and crawling in, trying not to slam the door to save his sensitive ears. He promptly lay out with his head resting on his bag, ignoring the worried look from Lisbon via rearview mirror.

Cho glanced back at Jane and noticed the bandaged hand, with no Rigsby to tease and not in a reading mood (which was something he was able to accomplish in the car at times, though he risked getting car sick) he decided he would ask since his boss wouldn't (he suspected there was something between them and the hand injury made Lisbon have a worried and guilty look).

"Hey Jane, what did you do to your hand?" he asked, turning in his seat a bit.

"Got in a fight," Jane said drolly.

Cho gave a snort, not buying it, and Lisbon clenched the steering wheel.

"You don't have a broken nose," Cho deadpanned, "What did you do? Anger your manicurist?"

"Ha ha," Jane replied quietly, eyes closed. He turned uncomfortably in the cramped seat, trying to decide if having his legs rest against the window versus having them bent up would feel better.

The met up with Rigsby and Van Pelt at the agreed upon grocery store and bought drinks and food, taking one last bathroom break. Jane miserably got out of the car to buy some more painkillers, at which point Lisbon got a better look at his hand when he returned.

"Jane! Is your hand broken? Did you even go to a hospital?" she reached out towards him, but he stumbled back in an attempt to jerk out of the way.

"Didn't know you cared," he bit out, wishing she'd leave him alone and that the others would hurry up with their purchases, "It doesn't matter, I just need to sleep."

He tried to ignore her wounded look. She wanted to be just coworkers, one of the things she was concerned about when he first tried to convince her to expand their relationship. He'd be professional when he wanted to, right now he just wanted to be left alone.

Cho was back and Lisbon, having confirmed the location with Van Pelt and the GPS system in both vehicles, wasn't too worried about not being bumper to bumper with the younger driver in caravan style.

They got back in the car, Jane deciding to sit up in his seat this time, at least for now. He went to the back seat so that later he'd have the option of throwing his legs over the back of the center bench seat. Normally he'd want shot gun, or sit right behind the driver (ie. Lisbon) so that he would have a clear view of their surroundings. He enjoyed soaking in the sights, he also enjoyed having access to conversation and people watching.

Now he was thankful that, though the long drive could make him feel worse, it also meant that they took two cars for better mobility at the crime site, which meant he wasn't forced to be cozy with the other two agents. With Rigsby's long legs there would have been competition for a bench seat to themselves and Van Pelt trying to entice them into conversation.

Lisbon thought they were over, hadn't come after him after he left. Not surprising. She was getting old? Also not surprising that she would think that and perhaps having her siblings fresh on her mind, particularly Michael, who was happily married with two kids, her underlying insecurity was bound to rise. She wasn't old, she was still full of energy and life, though if she wanted children at all her window of opportunity was diminishing rapidly, at least when it came to the chances of giving birth to a healthy child at her age. Perhaps that was a factor, he was fairly certain it was.

Lisbon struck him as a woman who loved children, would be happy to have her own, but could live without if she so chose. Thus far she had chosen to, though that was more through missed chances and her fear of what kind of parent she'd be despite having raised her three brothers successfully under such horrible conditions. They didn't come out of childhood unmarred, but they lived and for the most part were happy. That had been as a growing child herself, imagine how she would be as an adult woman not just on survival mode, but a successful woman with a steady job? He bitterly banished the thought. No use at all imagining it. He hadn't thought of wanting children again after the death of his only daughter, but it was only with Lisbon that he could even entertain the thought, even if he hadn't known beyond a subconscious glimmer that existed in the same place as his now almost extinct dreams lived.

The same place where he had imagined his daughter graduating high school, where he had foolishly imagined growing old and celebrating the gold wedding anniversary with his wife, still pulling tricks, but for his grandchildren, who had the same curly blond hair as his daughter, as his wife.

Jane was almost jealous of Cho, the man had been working with Lisbon for a couple years before Jane, knew her the longest out of the team. What secrets had they shared as younger agents? They were as close as best friends as far as coworkers went, and the consultant could almost picture Cho asking her out, a few years down the road, when he finally decided he wanted to settle down. It'd be a marriage of convenience, for sure, but marrying as best friends they'd quietly enjoy each other's company as they aged, maybe have one child to satisfy Cho's parents. In fact, Jane was starting to get jealous. It was a very dangerous possible reality if he didn't get Lisbon to change her mind. Why should he want her though? She wouldn't give him the time he needed as he had given her. His thoughts continued to darken.

Lisbon fiddled with the radio. She wasn't one to fiddle, but wanted a pretense to move her hand away from the wheel momentarily. She glanced up at the rearview mirror from time to time, watching Jane attempt to sleep. Speaking of sleep, it was probably rather dangerous for her to even consider driving the long distance they had. She was running mostly on caffeine, but that would only last so far, especially going down the interstate, miles and miles of bland scenery between blips of towns, and even more miles between the clusters of cities.

Thankfully Cho was with her, he'd offer to take over, he was used to silent communication with her, knew when she would want him to take over driving, which was rare. Driving gave her control over her life, something she had lacked in her formative years. Ironic that a drunk's decision to drive would cause the instability in young Tessa's life, turning her world upside down with the death of her mother, only for driving to become one of the few things she had any control over. She didn't like letting others make decisions for her, taking the control out of her hands. That's what Jane was asking for every time he tried to cajole her into letting him drive.

He was asking her to trust him, to trust her life in his hands, in the same hands that he wanted to murder someone with, vengeance or not. How he could casually wave off her accusations of speeding, she did not want to be the facilitator of careless driving just for the hell of it. Why didn't he understand that? It was one thing to chase down a suspect, but another entirely to just go speeding down the road for the thrill of it.

Cho had been staring out the side windshield, but now had a book in his hands, new from the grocery store, probably something he bought from the best seller's section. Judging by the size of the font used, the author's name larger than the title with no space for cover art, it was likely one of those predictable stories, same author pumping out hits, but when it came down to it all the stories shared similar elements and plot devices. A reliable blend that the readers trusted and knew well so that they could read it without having to concentrate too much. Not that that was a bad thing, but for Cho to choose it could show that it really was meant to occupy time such as in the car and possibly in the hotel before going to bed and not because he thought it would be a great read that would cause him to seriously think and ponder.

The senior agent focused on the road ahead of her once again, listening to the radio which she had set on a pop station that featured music from the 1980's to now. She kept the volume low and wasn't one for listening to music loudly when driving as it could be distracting and possibly cover other sounds that may alert her to oncoming dangers. Of course keeping the music on low had nothing to do with the blond man sitting in the back with his eyes closed. She sighed through her nose, Cho glancing up from his book unnoticed by her.

Cho almost wished he was in the other car so that he'd be able to tease Wayne in a way that would fly over Van Pelt's head. He loved making the tall agent squirm, he loved making people in general uncomfortable. It was so easy, especially after learning to appear so stoic. Just a simple thing as an unflappable appearance could cause so many people to look away from his steady gaze, make them wonder if he knew something they didn't, any number of things. Of course, aside from reading, subtly harassing people was one of his favorite hobbies, maybe that was one of the qualities that made him a good interrogator. That paired with his cultivated monotone voice. The ultimate weapon. It made it difficult for others to know when he was being serious or sarcastic, a good tool when repeating what should have been obviously ridiculous, but to the common low-brow criminal, they didn't know they were being mocked. Another private enjoyment. He got his entertainment where he could, being able to do so while working was a perk.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** Thank you yaba!

Thanks to those of you who left a review! country2776, mwalter1, lisbonloafers (Jane jealous of Cho would be sooo… hilarious, yes :-D), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Yes, it's highly inadvisable to go without medical attention when there is a suspected broken bone, but who is Jane to listen? Sorry, confrontation will take place next chapter, I promise.), The Lonely Fox, phoenixmagic1, Hikaru Ceres (Thanks! I enjoy reading your thoughts on the story.)

Please read and review!

**Chapter 6**

After an hour of driving, Cho asked Lisbon if he could take over. The book he was reading had a slow chapter. She readily agreed.

The agents knew Jane was truly in pain, because he wasn't trying to get them to pity him as he usually did when injured. The consultant didn't ask for them to pull over for some tea, he didn't ask for anything, the only thing he wanted was quiet. He thanked the god he didn't believe in that the medicine bottle was the type where one only needed to align the arrows on the cap with the bottle to pop the lid off. That only required one useable hand. The water bottle, however, was a different story. He had looked for the type that had a sports top, but had to settle for the regular type.

Jane really did try opening the bottle, but holding it down in the crook of his arm as he tried to twist the cap off didn't work. The bottle kept twisting in his arm, the cap was on too tightly, even if he managed to open it there was a high likelihood that the water would spill all over him. He contemplated dry swallowing the pills.

A small hand was put out in front of him. Lisbon had obviously noticed his struggles. He looked up at her; she was leaning into the open space between the seats, body twisting to face him. Jane handed the bottle to her without comment. He opened the bottle of ibuprofen, turning it over into his cupped hand and popped a couple pills into his mouth, before taking the now opened water bottle from Lisbon. He was unable to avoid the brush of their fingers as he grasped the bottle, a painful reminder of her touch. After he swallowed the pills, Lisbon held out the cap for him, warm fingers setting the plastic into his open palm.

Jane tried to sleep again, waiting for the pills to take effect. He sagged into his seat, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight. The A/C was on, but it was making him feel unnaturally cold. He adjusted the blower on the car ceiling to try to make it blow away from him. He tried to concentrate, to relax, bring himself to a meditative state, but it wasn't working. His hand was throbbing too much, honestly he wished he could just curl up and… not die, but be completely unconscious to the point that not even dreams could disturb him.

The whole trip was pretty quiet, Lisbon having caught up on sleep and Cho allowed her to, knowing she needed it. They did pull over twice more for bathroom breaks, one of them for Jane who was looking clammy and pale. At the minimart adjacent to the gas station, they bought ice which they put in an emptied sandwich bag and wrapped in Cho's extra undershirt. Cho had looked at Jane and blandly told him that he needed to go through a first aid course. The agent had been reminded of when Lisbon had been shot and Jane was unable to assist, prior to that was the shooting of Bosco and his team. He still wondered how Jane was hired and managed to escape what he was certain would be mandatory first aid classes. Well, it wasn't really a wonder, it was difficult to enforce anything on Jane; Lisbon had a difficult enough time as it was.

Both cars arrived at the Sheriff's station in Palmdale and followed his car as he took them out past the town's main area and to Acton just a few minutes south and without their own sheriff. They drove on dirt roads and into the hills. They knew they had arrived at the crime scene as there was another car waiting, two people keeping guard over the area, perhaps the local volunteer group.

The CBI team were greeted by grim faced men and immediately set to work. Lisbon didn't exactly feel refreshed, but the couple hours she had been able to nap did allow her to focus. Jane clearly wasn't doing well and stayed in the car after a cursory look around. Needless to say, Lisbon was taking him straight to the hospital, or clinic, right after they got all they needed from the area so that the body could be moved. The sun hadn't done them any favors as the smell of death had risen with the heat of the day.

The victim was Samuel Dunlop, provided by his driver's license found in his wallet in his back pocket. He was found early that morning by two riders on their horses, who had then called the sheriff for help. The couple was in Acton for a long weekend to enjoy riding (the town proclaimed to be "an equestrian and pet lovers community") and claimed to not know the victim.

With the lack of blood pools under or near the body, they were able to conclude that this was the dumping site and not where Dunlop was killed. No evidence of struggle was apparent; no clear tire tracks either since the area was rather gravelly.

Samuel Dunlop was from Los Angeles. Sheriff Hughes managed to find out that he had been staying at the Holiday Inn in Palmdale that was about a twenty minute drive from their current location. Having collected all that they needed from the area, Lisbon gave permission for the body to be moved and asked where the closest hospital was.

Despite Jane's protest (admittedly a feeble one) Lisbon took him to Acton's hospital, telling the rest of the team to head on to the motel that Van Pelt had booked for them earlier that day. The doctor took an x-ray of the consultant's hand, confirmed that he had fractured the metacarpals of his first two fingers, and also had an infection from his scraped knuckles which had particles embedded (plaster from Lisbon's wall) in them.

The hand was carefully cleaned of the plaster pieces and wrapped in a loose fist formation around a bandage roll. The doctor prescribed anti-inflammatory agents for the swollen hand and antibiotics for the infection, from which Jane was suffering a mild fever. They were also advised to continue the application of a cold pack off and on again every twenty minutes to try and keep the swelling down.

Lisbon drove to the pharmacy, Jane having climbed in and sitting in the passenger seat. She let him stay in the car as she went in to have his prescription filled.

The car ride was a short one to their motel. Observing it from outside, it didn't look like much, but once indoors there was a difference. It wasn't as run down as some of the places they had previously stayed in and the service was friendly. There was a cozy feel with personal touches, not the commercialized abstract "art" that large hotel chains had.

Van Pelt had managed to obtain three rooms, which meant the women would be sharing a room and the men had to decide how to split up their rooms, though one look at Jane and both the male agents decided to give him the room to himself.

The sick consultant tottered into the room by himself, leaving the others to go to dinner. He didn't bother changing into his pajamas, he just went straight to the queen sized bed and laid on top of the covers, not even removing his shoes. The curtains were open, but he couldn't find it in himself to care enough to close them. He turned on his side, back to the windows, to curl up protectively around his hand and previously distressed stomach.

***

Lisbon and her team had a booth in the diner that was near their motel. The sun was low in the sky and would likely set in another hour or two. While they waited for their orders, they discussed the case and their plan of attack on it.

The victim was married with two children, he worked on the chair board of a large investment company, and this was his first time to Acton. He was in Acton with other chair persons from his company as part of a weeklong retreat. Cho and Van Pelt had gone to the Holiday Inn that the others were staying at to get a full list of everyone attending the retreat, and keys to Dunlop's room, stationing people from the Palmdale Sheriff's Station at the hotel to keep an eye out for suspicious activity. No foul play was evident in the vic's room and they had to wait for the next day to petition for warrants to search the rooms of the other people who knew him.

Lisbon's team could only try to relax and get a good night's sleep tonight, because tomorrow they'd be starting early and probably be working late into the night on this one. They could only hope that it was a simple case. On the few facts they knew there were too many possibilities, murder suspects were usually people the victim knew such as family and friends. Was his marriage falling apart? Did he make a vote as chair person others didn't like? Perhaps he had rubbed a local the wrong way. So many possibilities, it was useless to take a guess without more to go on.

Their food came, Rigsby, who ordered a bacon cheese burger with endless steak fries, was busily working on the golden strips. Lisbon was certain that the diner would rue the day they met Rigsby's bottomless pit of a stomach as he tested the limits of their definition of "endless" fries. Van Pelt had ordered a cheese and broccoli quiche with salad and Cho had the steak with baked potato. Lisbon had a soup and salad, not really hungry despite having not eaten much in the car.

Of course Rigsby and Van Pelt didn't know that their boss hadn't had a proper meal all day, which left Cho who was not so subtly staring at Lisbon, letting her know that he was worried for her. She tried to give him a 'What?' look but his pointed stare didn't leave until she started eating. She didn't want to be embarrassed in front of the other two so she knew she had to finish both soup and salad completely, knowing Cho would do or say something if she didn't.

Done talking about the case for the night, the next topic on everyone's mind was Jane.

"Boss, what happened to Jane?" Van Pelt finally asked, fork dangling from her fingers.

Spoon in mouth, Lisbon looked up at her. She pulled out the spoon and swallowed, all eyes on her.

"He fractured a couple bones in his hand and a couple small cuts on his knuckles got infected so he was given antibiotics and pain meds. He should be much better tomorrow, just needs to keep icing his hand and take the medication," she said, wanting to leave it at that, but knowing what the next obvious question would be. She could still hope.

"How did he break his hand?" Rigsby asked, chomping on his burger. He was not at all in tune with the rest of the team since he hadn't noticed Jane's broken hand that morning, only heard about it from Grace when they were in the car. She had told him her theory about Jane and Lisbon seeing each other, but he had waved it aside, thinking there was no way their boss would have let such a thing happen. Jane would be dead by now.

The silence caught the team's attention. Lisbon was frantically thinking up a story, some excuse to explain it, "Uh, I didn't ask really. He hit something," she said, avoiding their eyes by taking a bit of her salad. Jane was right, she was a bad liar.

Van Pelt noticed that Rigsby was about to ask something and tried to discreetly elbow him, causing him to choke on his fry. She shook her head at him.

Cho and Van Pelt had realized whatever happened must be something private by the way Lisbon was acting. Van Pelt expressed that she hoped he felt better soon and they quietly completed their dinners. Rigsby had three plates of refills on his fries, and ordered pie for desert.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:** Thank you Yana/yaba!

Thank you to the following for reviewing! Country2776, yaba (Yes, not all smooth sailing at all, because what's the fun in that? Those two have lots of issues… Thanks!), lisbonloafers (And, I do believe, this is the long awaited confrontation. I'm glad you liked my little Rigsby eating habits tossed in for fun. His background snacking makes the show… lol! Okay, maybe not, but fun nonetheless.), lisbon69 (Thank you for such a compliment! Ironically I myself really didn't like reading angst, especially since depending on the story some people are sooo heavy on it all throughout with barely no light until the very end. So yes, glad my amount is working out for you!), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Yes, clearly they do.), mwalter1 (I think Lisbon maybe have taken the hint ;-P), Hikaru Ceres (Wow! Olympics figure skating? My mom really likes watching figure skating, we tried getting tickets last year when they started selling Olympic tickets, but they got sold out so quickly and here we are a year later, watching it on TV… oh well, at least she got to see the world's figure skating competition a couple years back in Spokane. And yes, being angry, frustrated, depressed, hung over, nursing a broken hand, and being medicated is likely not a great mix for Jane's sanity… lol, who would have thought Jane would ever be jealous of Cho?)

I've been speeding up posting new chapters to get to this point we've been waiting for the last couple chapters, also the great reviews popping up. Thanks again for reviewing, please continue (or start *wink wink*) to review!

**Chapter 7**

There was a gentle knocking at his door. Jane hadn't been sleeping, more like dozing off and on the last couple of hours, allowed himself some much needed rest, not quite achieving unconsciousness. He had a strong feeling of who was on the other side of that door and pondered allowing her to think he was asleep. The darkness of the room with only dim lights from outside allowed him a sense of calmness that let him think when he wanted to.

"Jane?" came the quiet voice, confirming his suspicions. It was Lisbon, she sounded a bit worried. He heard a rustle of plastic and realized she must have brought him dinner.

Lisbon was just about to leave when the door opened, Jane squinted at the light in the hallway, his own room dark, except for one lamp he had turned on. It was clear to her he had been sleeping, or at least attempting to. There were light red lines on the left side of his face and his clothes looked a little rumpled.

He looked down at the white plastic bag in her hand, speaking in a quiet, sleep induced gravelly voice, "Is that a peace offering?"

Such a statement under normal circumstances may have caused her to bristle, but as it was she had been feeling guilty, and it helped that he looked so pitiful.

"If you want to think it is, then yes," she answered. His eyes looked gray in the shadows of his room, he stepped back to allow her entry.

Lisbon's original plan was to just hand him the bag and head back to her room, but she couldn't refuse the offer.

Like all their rooms he had a kitchenette that included a microwave and refrigerator, a desk, TV, and his own bathroom. The only difference was the single bed, whereas the other rooms had two. The senior agent pulled open the drawer in the kitchenette and brought out a fork, carrying bag and fork to the small kitchen table, setting them down and turned on the light stand. Jane had made no move to turn on the room lights. He joined her at the table and waited for her to sit before seating himself.

"I didn't know what you would want," she started, pulling the Styrofoam box out of the bag, "so I just ordered you a quiche and salad, that way you'll be able to eat it with just a fork."

Lisbon opened the box and set the fork in front of him.

"Thank you," he said as he picked up the fork. Lisbon quietly watched, wishing she could just leave, but feeling she couldn't. Jane knew this at some level, subconsciously eating his dinner slowly to prolong the length of time they would be together.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, indicating his left hand that was resting on the table, bandaged palm up, back of his hand resting on top of an ice pack. He took another bite of the quiche, chewing and swallowing before answering. She shifted in her seat, looking away from him.

"An interesting question," he began, seemingly relaxed. A moment before he knew she would become frustrated enough to storm out, he continued, "My hand doesn't hurt as much, there's that ache that's constantly there…"

Somehow she felt he wasn't really talking about his hand, especially with the way he was looking at her, no hint of mirth, an almost hangdog expression on his face. She pursed her lips and looked to the side, unable to meet his steady gaze. He had stopped eating.

"Teresa," he started, his heart sunk when she flinched at the use of her name, but she didn't correct him, "let's fix this."

"There's nothing to fix."

"You can't mean that," he said, desperation creeping into his voice. When she wouldn't face him, he reached out to touch her hand, curling his fingers firmly around her hand, forcing her to acknowledge him. She met his gaze and wished she hadn't.

"Jane, you made it abundantly clear-"

"No! You just assumed, you didn't give me any time!" Jane spoke stiffly, trying to control himself. He realized that his hold had tightened on her and forced himself to relax. He took some comfort in the fact she hadn't tried shaking him off, or leaving for that matter. He had an opportunity, she was saying 'no' but the fact she was still there trying to listen told him he may still have a chance.

"I'm sorry I put a hole in your wall, I'll fix it when we get back," he said, waving his broken hand at her when her mouth opened to tell him he didn't need to, "I need to fix it, it was my fault. I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"You surprised me more than anything else," she admitted, eyes flitting to meet his, now that he appeared calm, speaking normally. His fingers were tracing little circles on her inner wrist, she found it distracting, but couldn't find it in herself to pull away from his touch.

"I admit, I was angry, but know I'd never hurt you," he leaned forward earnestly, making sure she understood that point. He found the confirmation he was hoping for in her eyes, no fear, and nodded to himself as he leaned back a bit in his seat.

"I think you were getting scared- please just listen," he stopped her again from interrupting, she did not like to be labeled as 'scared'. He saw her jaw clench, but she obeyed and tried to relax in her seat again, though her brows were now slightly furrowed, "You haven't told me about your previous relationships, but I know that you usually end them, or do something to make them want to end it. And I'm glad you did."

She looked slightly confused, but then rolled her eyes, almost snorting. He had a teasing look to his own eyes, putting her more at ease.

"You asked me a serious question and I know you probably said it originally to throw me off, putting up your defenses as usual since we were getting closer. I need you to realize that you asked me something very difficult," he spoke in carefully modulated tones, finally catching her eyes in a steady gaze across the table, maintaining contact through their hands. One would wonder if he was ready to hypnotize her.

"Jane, you don't need to explain anymore, I know you're not going to change. You've repeatedly let me know you're here solely to catch Red John," she hedged, not wanting her hopes to go up, knowing they'd only get dashed.

"That's where you're wrong, dear Teresa," he answered, having noticed the guarded look she gave him. He gave her a slight smile, "Yes, I did come to CBI for access to the Red John case. I did see you all as a means to an end, but that's changed. At some point I grew to care about all of you. I tried not to, but being in the same office day in and day out, learning about all of your little quirks… we had become friends. Then I almost lost you and I realized that you had become more than just a tool as I had seen you when I first came to work with you. Even that first day I knew there was something special about you, though I didn't want to admit it to myself. I watched over you in that hospital and didn't want you to die, not because I'd lose a valuable partner, but a friend, and if you'd let me, something more."

"Well I'm glad I'm more than just a pawn in your game," she sniffed, trying to keep up her resistance to him, even as his warm, soft touch was melting it away.

"Understand that after being released from… the hospital, after my family was killed, that all I ever thought of was my revenge. That was all I had to live for. There was no one else. My mother left when I was a young boy, I left my father when I left the circus. My wife and daughter were it. They were taken away because I had to make a buck, even when I had more than enough. I enjoyed the spotlight too much, having people eat whatever I wanted out of my palm. I had to make restitution for my family. They deserve that, it was all my fault, but they paid for it with their lives," he reasoned.

It was his reasonable tone that made Lisbon nervous, but she sat quietly, waiting for him to continue, forcing down the bile that was rising.

He sounded very much like a killer.

"I spent five years of my life just looking for him, five years of nightmares when I managed to sleep, waking moments spent looking for leads, imagining the end of my misery, of finding him and killing him, before I came to the CBI and met you. I know you can't imagine it, but can you see that I'm trying to change?" Jane asked her, "I waited for you to say 'yes' to us. Can't you just wait a while for me? You didn't give me even one minute to rethink those five years, and I had been thinking. I didn't take that ring off without a reason."

She studied him, his hand now still against hers, thinking on all he said, but the question begged to be asked, "Do you know if you will be ready to let go of your revenge?"

His eyes didn't waver as he answered, "I can tell you now that I no longer can imagine gutting him myself."

She swallowed, her throat dry, and she nodded. He didn't say he'd give up, but he had made progress from their talk in her office that seemed so long ago. She had another question, "Why bother with me?"

In her question, the blond man saw the insecure girl that still existed within the woman in front of him. He squeezed her hand gently, "Because you're worth it. You're worth fighting for, metaphorically speaking of course, because I know if such a thing were to happen I'll let you do the fighting."

Lisbon was rolling her eyes again and Jane gave her a fully fledged grin, "That's right, I'll let the woman who's half my size worry about tackling giants."

"I am _not_ half your size!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up, "I will hit you if need be!"

"Oooh, not fair Teresa, you'd have the blue shield to protect you. No police officer would believe you beat me, what with your feminine wiles," he teased.

"That's right, so you better behave," she was much at ease now, not quite realizing the ramifications of their talk.

"So are we okay? Can I come to sleep on your couch again?" Jane asked, once again serious, having taken hold of her hand.

The smile faded from her face, she sighed through her nose as she thought it over. She noticed that Jane was absolutely still, and for once took guilty pleasure in the fact that he apparently couldn't read her that well currently. She made what was, for her, a bold move. Lisbon slowly reached for his left hand, gently cradling it in both of hers and brought the bruised fingers to her lips to kiss. She heard him exhale, his breath coming out in a shuddering gasp. She wondered if she had hurt him, but when her eyes opened and she looked up at his face, there was no pain in his expression, but that look in his eyes.

"I need to go to sleep," she said suddenly, laying Jane's hand down on top of the ice pack. She was out of her chair and ready to head to the door when his voice stopped her, "Teresa, wait."

She was still facing the door, but paused, thinking about the length of time she was gone and wondering what her roommate (ie. Van Pelt) would be thinking of her long absence.

"Could you help me change into my pajamas?"

The request sounded innocent enough, she turned towards him, he too was up and out of his chair, a guileless expression on his face. Yet somehow Lisbon sensed a trap somewhere. Something in her was screaming for her to run away now and go to her room. It happened to be the same voice that had caused a hole to be in her wall. So she tried to ignore it, mentally shaking herself, telling herself that her mind must be in the gutter. Jane had a broken hand, having had broken and bruised bones before she knew how highly sensitive the brush of clothing against such wounds could hurt.

"Okay, but no funny business," she leveled him a semi-threatening glare.

"No funny business here," he replied, hands up, disarming smile in place.

That did nothing to ease her worry.

He hadn't worn his jacket since the office, having been using it as a pillow on top of his overnight bag in the car, and now it was hung over the back of the chair at the desk by the TV and window.

"Wait," she stopped herself, becoming suspicious, "why can't you do this yourself? You have one usable hand, that's enough to undo your buttons."

"I have a lot of buttons. Please? I somehow doubt Rigsby or Cho would be accommodating," he joked, starting to unbutton his vest.

"No, I think you are more than qualified to dress yourself. With all the tricks you do I'm sure you have enough dexterity," she began to leave again.

"Please? Just please, at least help me put on my pajamas. I admit, unbuttoning is the easy part, but have you tried to button up with just one hand? It's really difficult," he insisted, sliding his vest off and setting it over his chair. In the dim lighting he saw her shoulders starting to sag and kept a triumphant smile to himself. Nope, she could not resist him for long.

"Oh all right, but you're on your own if you need to change your underwear," she said, as if daring him. Being sarcastic was the only way to keep her mind off the fact that the man she cared about was undressing behind her. She heard the light rasp of him pulling his shirt out from his pants. She hoped he wasn't the type to wear briefs.

"Where's your pajamas?" she asked, focusing on the task at hand. She spotted the bag by the door.

"It's in my bag- you've found it."

She picked up the bag and placed it on the kitchen counter, unzipping it and searching. She found his light blue, button up pajama top and drawstring pants. With sleepwear in hand she turned to see him working on the last button, she saw that he wore a singlet. She walked over to him, placing the pajamas on his bed and pulling at his sleeves, being extra careful with his left sleeve. She guided him to sit on the edge of his bed and gently pulled his undershirt up and off of him. She quickly got his top and had him slide his arms through and buttoned it, catching sight of his lightly haired chest. She couldn't help it as it was right in front of her above the buttons she was trying to focus on. She could feel the warmth, could smell him without difficulty, but maintained her business like attitude as she did up his last button. Then she thought about when she had helped dress Kev and her other brothers, it made her smile faintly as a wave of nostalgia passed over her. She no longer felt as awkward.

Jane noticed the change in her attitude. Not that he liked her feeling uncomfortable, but it was fun, especially if he could entice her. He had noticed how her eyes briefly caught on his chest, his skin. She had never before seen him without a shirt, even in the comfort of her home as he had never changed while visiting, staying in his three piece suit, sans jacket, to sleep on her couch.

She was undoing his pants, it wasn't sensual, as both had thought it would be when such a thing happened. Especially with how professional she was being under the circumstances, no more joking. He stood up, allowing his slacks to fall, and stepped out. He wore red plaid boxers. He noticed the small grin on Lisbon's face.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just thought you'd have more… imaginative designs, I don't know," she replied, pulling open the pajama pants for him to step into.

"Are you offering to buy me underwear?" he asked just as she pulled the waist band up to his navel.

"No! Are you kidding me?" she raised an eyebrow at him, one of his favorite expressions on her face, that incredulous smile that deepened the crease near her mouth. Before she could step away, having finished helping him, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his chin resting on her shoulder as he hunched down. He felt her arms coming up around his body a moment later, hugging him back, then stepping away.

"Go to sleep," she practically ordered, pointing at his bed.

"Want to join me?" he asked, teasing glint in his eyes as Lisbon controlled the blush that attempted to take over.

"You're on drugs. Go to bed, I'll see you in the morning," she said promptly, making her way to the door.

"What? No good night kiss?" he moaned, as close to childlike as a grown man could be.

"Good night!" she said, opening his door, but then she turned and did something he'd never have imagined she'd do, something so out of character. She blew him a kiss.

Lisbon heard his delighted laugh as she closed his door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes:** Wow! Quite a rush of comments from all of you for the last chapter!

As always thank you Yana for reading and editing the chapters so quickly!

I am very appreciative of you all, thank you willabee, lisbon69 (I'm glad to assist in lifting your spirits!), shopping-luva91, yaba/Yana, MK (Superman briefs? As in red underwear or actual briefs with Superman logo and caped wonder flying around on it? Do they make underwear like that in larger sizes than boys? LOL! Underwear shopping for other people only works in prank situations… at least that's my belief for the moment.), Tallie14, lisbonloafers, The Lonely Fox, Ebony10 (Thank you so much for reviewing every chapter! You are awesome!), ThranduilsDaughter (You know, I've started wondering if a guy like Jane would wear holey underwear? I mean think about it, he clearly isn't interested in sexual relationships so as long as he had his suit on would he care if his underwear is all worn? Some guys just don't seem to care… no one but them to see or wear it. Maybe that's why Lisbon needs to buy him some new ones ;-), Hikaru Ceres (Congrats on Olympics TV coverage by your cable provider! lol! I'm sure Jane would handcuff her to him if she tried to escape his charms.), xxxBekaForEvaxxx

Please read and review!

**Chapter 8**

The next morning Jane joined the team for breakfast. The previous night, Van Pelt had noticed that the air around Lisbon seemed to have lightened noticeably. Now there appeared to be no tension at all between the boss and the consultant. Cho seemed to be taking everything in stride, or perhaps just focused on his food. He likely noted the change in attitude. Rigsby had given a few discreet glances, wondering what was going on, but then was content to eat, realizing that all was well again.

Grace had noted Lisbon's absence before she fell asleep. She knew that the senior agent had brought dinner for Jane, but the romantic in her wanted to believe that something happened. She had woken up when Lisbon returned to their room, noticed that the older woman looked much improved and relaxed than she had that morning and evening. The young agent really hoped things had been patched up between the two; she knew they'd look… "cute" wasn't precisely the word to use for them.

They already had been arguing like an old bickering couple, maybe "cute" was the word? Adorable. She'd have to think on that one. Whatever they were, they just belonged, that was something Van Pelt was certain of.

They were at the same diner as the previous night. Cho and Van Pelt noted the improvement in Lisbon's appetite, though not by much since she wasn't much of a breakfast person anyway, especially this early in the morning. Some cases that required them to be out on the road, she'd go by on just a cup of coffee and yogurt. In any case, the general sense of wellbeing reassured everyone and they were able to enjoy their respective breakfasts, the last moments of leisure they'd probably have until they solved the murder.

It was when Lisbon had finished her second cup of coffee that she was ready for the long day ahead of them, now only having to worry about the investigation and keeping Jane in line. Standard procedure. She almost sighed at the thought. One downside, a small one to be sure, of Jane not being in as much pain (mentally as well as physically) was that she'd have to expend some extra energy keeping him reined in.

He was no longer moody and subdued and had gotten over the hangover from the previous day. She glanced at him, being caught unaware by him as he had been studying her the whole time. He gave her a smile. They hadn't even started working yet today and already she was narrowing her eyes in suspicion at him. Was that a real smile, or an "innocent" one that meant she'd need to check for voice messages full of complaints?

Jane took a sip of his tea, privately enjoying the look of suspicion. He hadn't yet done anything at all this morning, it was just good to keep her on her toes. It kept her sharp, or at least that would be his excuse.

The day was spent chasing down leads and making phone calls. Their first stop was to the hotel the victim had been staying at with his coworkers. They interviewed everyone from his company, people on the same floor as him, the people at the front desk, and many more. They constructed a timeline to find who the last to see Dunlop alive was, correlated it with the various interviews and security camera videos from the hotel.

Lisbon snapped another surveillance recording shut into its DVD case. She had already broken one of the clear plastic cases earlier in frustration. The team was working at the sheriff's station in Palmdale, watching DVDs of the hotel surveillance cameras on their laptops. The last confirmed person to have seen Dunlop alive was Mandy Sheffield, unfortunately she had an airtight, confirmed alibi. She last saw him around 11AM Sunday, after which she met with two other coworkers for lunch. They had been part of a morning horse riding group and had shared a car ride with others of their group, back to the hotel.

She last saw him in the elevator on their way back to their rooms.

There were twenty-six people on the board attending the retreat. Sunday had various small group activities, which explained why no one seemed to notice Dunlop was missing as it would be assumed he was doing a different activity with another group since each activity had a different mix, allowing everyone to work with different people.

The window was open, a fan blowing in the small office, but it didn't do much to disperse the heat. There was the perpetual buzzing of something that looked like a horsefly bouncing against the water stained ceiling and fluorescent lights. It was getting on Lisbon's nerves. She was sure she'd be able to shoot it at this distance.

She heard the creak of a chair and noticed that Rigsby had sat up, looking intently at his screen, she waited for the inevitable, could feel the flutter of excitement in her chest.

"Boss? I think I found him."

Lisbon got up from her shared desk with Cho and walked to Rigsby's side, looking over his shoulder. He had paused his video from the lobby camera. Cho and Van Pelt had also joined them on Rigsby's side of the desk. The video frame showed Dunlop, in the same clothes he was found dead in, talking to someone as they walked. Perhaps arguing would be a better word. He appeared to be holding a woman by her upper arm, marching her out of the hotel. Rigsby played the video and it was exactly as it seemed, he did lead her out of the hotel.

"She doesn't match any of the female coworkers on the retreat," Cho observed. The woman on camera appeared much too petite compared to the women they had interviewed, though she wore sunglasses and face turned away from the camera, which obscured her identity.

Lisbon leaned in and looked at the time of the recording. Three sixteen in the afternoon.

"Does someone have video from the outside?" she asked.

Cho checked his stack of DVDs and brought one over.

"Good, find the same time stamp. I want to see if there are any clues as they leave the hotel… did the hotel have a security camera on parking?" she asked as she headed back to her side of the desk, searching through the disks, "Never mind, I got it."

She passed a couple other discs that covered different parts of the parking lot to Van Pelt and Rigsby. She saw Cho glance over her shoulder and knew Jane had finally gotten up out of the beat up love seat against the wall.

"Did you smell the body?" he asked her, he was now hovering over her shoulder.

Lisbon leaned away from him, turning in her seat, her facial expression clear.

"Jane, I think we all were able to smell it without even trying to," she replied, recalling the smell of death: old blood, building gases, and other unidentifiable scents that all combined in the recognizable odor.

"I'm just trying to determine if he was with the woman long enough to have left behind her scent," Jane reasoned, "a tried and true method, as you have witnessed before."

"Whatever. We do know we have to find this woman, is she his wife, coworker that was not part of the retreat group, mistress? We'll need to interview the wife anyway," Lisbon sighed. It had been an exhaustive day of interviews, going through twenty-five coworkers, front desk, and neighbors. Watching videos would be considered a break, but trying to watch them carefully to find Dunlop in hours of footage… it was torturous. Having to do all this in the heat of the day when not in the hotel and then in the sheriff's station with broken air conditioner… well, it was really quite miraculous that Lisbon hadn't shot something, least of all the fly that was still lazily buzzing and hitting the light and ceiling. What the hell was the fly's problem anyway?

Thankfully the sun was ready to set, temperatures cooling more noticeably, with it bringing down Lisbon's irritability. Barely.

Suddenly she jabbed the pause button on her laptop, making sure she saw what she thought she did. It appeared to be Dunlop and the mystery woman. Unfortunately they still couldn't get a good look at her since the footage was taken from some distance, but she was able to see the car they got into.

"Looks like we got a car," she informed the team with a hint of satisfaction.

***

Van Pelt had found that the car was registered to one Laura Snell. No police record was on file. Laura Snell lived in Burbank and Van Pelt managed to get a copy of her driver's license to I.D. her. According to the driver's license she was 5'3", had brown hair and eyes, and weighed 110 pounds. If she was the killer, she would have had to surprise her victim and taken a shot quickly. They wouldn't know if Dunlop had been shot close rage or at a distance until they received a report from the L.A. forensics lab.

They printed a few copies of her driver's license photo to use the next day to see if anyone recognized her, as well as a few still frames of her with Dunlop. Lisbon would take Jane with her to Burbank and see if they could find the suspect at her home, while Cho and Rigsby would go to L.A. interview Samuel Dunlop's wife. Unfortunately for Van Pelt, that meant she had to hold down the fort in Acton and Palmdale, keeping her at her computer, ready to pull up information and send out requests to other departments. Her own project included piecing together the security videos and finding when Snell had arrived at the hotel in the first place as they had missed it, not knowing they were looking for her earlier.

They closed up shop at the sheriff's for the night and headed out in search of a place to eat aside from the diner they had eaten at twice already. Lisbon drove in front with Rigsby following. Cho had decided to ride with him and Van Pelt, leaving Jane to happily take shotgun in Lisbon's car as he imagined how Cho would quietly torture Rigsby. Of course, they had decided to go to the Thai restaurant that was in between the station and motel… which was less than a minute by driving.

"What are you smiling about?" Lisbon asked, having glanced over at him as she drove, keeping an eye out for the turn off for the restaurant on the right side of the road. She was already turning in to the parking area.

Jane turned his charming smile onto her and replied, "Why, you, of course," and patted her knee.

The car jerked with a sudden stop as Lisbon hit the brakes and turned to the consultant, "Don't do that while I'm driving! It can be dangerous," she scolded, having pulled into a space.

"You're an excellent driver. I trust you," Jane calmly replied, "You're just mad because you're ticklish."

"Yes," she admitted, a bemused not-quite-smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "okay, but if you know that then you should also know that driving while being distracted is very dangerous. Don't do that or next time I'll kick you out of the car while we're still moving!" she half-heartedly threatened (if only for the principal worry of distracted driving), ineffectual to Jane, who just shrugged it off, grinning as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out. The team leader rolled her eyes heavenward and let out a deep sigh. She was aware that she had just given the frustrating man the expected response, amusing him. Why did he take such joy in exasperating others?

Later that evening, back at their motel, the women had said their goodnights to the men and headed to their room.

"Did you want to say something?" Lisbon asked her roommate, after closing their room door.

Van Pelt was doing a very good imitation of a deer caught in headlights, "Uh, no. Nothing really."

"Are you sure?" Lisbon pressed as she opened up her small travel case, setting out her sleepwear.

"Well…" the taller woman thought. She had thought the looks between her boss and their consultant had been discreet, but wrong, and now in a dilemma of daring to say anything, or make something up now that she had been caught. The brunette was now staring at her with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed against her chest. Crap.

"Just say what's on your mind, just us girls in here now," Lisbon urged gently, though she had an inkling of what possible subjects the younger woman may bring up. She was tired and just wanted it out now so she could clear things up then sleep.

The redhead hesitated another moment more, wondering if her boss was lulling her into a false sense of security, only to chew her out after. She decided to just spill and say what was on her mind, "I've noticed that you and Jane have… reconciled," she worded carefully, looking up at her boss, "Monday was pretty bad. I think the rest of the team is also wondering what happened between the two of you."

Lisbon took a seat on the edge of her bed, pajamas still in her arms, as she remained calm. No need to ream Grace, even Rigsby had noticed the tension, not that he was particularly unobservant, just seemingly more so than Cho, Jane, and herself. Though she and Jane had momentarily patched things up, they had let their relationship affect their work, especially Jane who had been totally useless on Monday. She'd need to talk to him about it.

What would she say to her junior agent though?

"You know what, forget I said anything," Van Pelt tried to lightly backpedal and head to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She was rethinking her decision to say anything at all and thought perhaps it was inappropriate to question her superior, "girl" talk or not. She heard Lisbon sigh.

"Don't worry about it Grace, we've been sorting through some things is all," Lisbon provided. The younger agent just nodded and turned slightly, small smile on her lips, to say, "I hope you guys stay fine," then went on to the bathroom sink.

Was that her junior agent telling her she suspected and approved of her relationship with Jane? Lisbon tried not to dwell on it as she changed out of her clothes. She didn't like the implications of her imagined secret being apparent to her team. Who else may have guessed?

Lisbon was brushing her teeth when her cell phone went off. She spit and raced to her phone, wondering who it may be. Jane? She answered the phone, "What is it?"

"_Tuck me in?"_

Lisbon rolled her eyes and simply said, "Good night," before turning off her phone. Her phone rang again, it was Jane, but rather than picking it up she silenced it, sending his call to her voice message. He was probably not sleepy at all, having his regular insomnia attack and bored… thus deciding to bother her.

She was just finishing her nightly routine when the room's phone rang. She heard Van Pelt answer it.

"It's for you, Boss," she said.

"Who is it?" Lisbon asked, walking to her bed.

"Jane."

The senior agent sighed and took the handset.

"_I told her not to tell you,"_ was the immediate complaint she heard.

"Jane, what do you want?" she asked, her mouth set in a grimacing straight line. Grace was reading a book, but was clearly amused. Lisbon was pretty sure that the amusement had nothing to do with what she was reading.

"_What? I can't call you to just talk?"_ came the voice that was anything but innocent.

"Goodnight Jane," she said, hearing his protests of how rude it was to hang up as she did just that.

"What are you smiling about?" Lisbon asked faux sternly, raising her brow at Van Pelt.

Grace looked up from her book, straightening her face as she did so, "Nothing ma'am."

"Don't 'ma'am' me, makes me feel old," Lisbon frowned, then muttered, "That man can drive me to drink."

Grace giggled and Lisbon joined in, grinning at each other. They stopped abruptly when a knock sounded at their door.

"Don't answer that, it's probably Jane coming to harass us," Lisbon ordered, pointing a finger to stay her young teammate. The redhead just smiled at her. There was knocking again. After a short pause they heard Jane's exasperated sigh.

"Oh come on, I know you're in there," he whined.

"Leave us alone, we're trying to sleep," Lisbon called back, not getting up from her bed.

"No you're not, if anything you're talking about me," Jane spoke through the door, "I have a deck of cards that has your name written all over it. You can join us, Grace."

"Go away," Lisbon said sternly.

"But I'm booored. Cho and Rigsby won't play with me either. Take pity on a lonely insomniac," came the pitiful whine.

"What are you? Three?"

"I wouldn't mind playing a couple games," Grace offered, taking pity on their consultant.

"Don't encourage him," Lisbon whispered.

"I heard that! Grace wants to play, come on Lisbon, the more the merrier," the slightly muffled, hopeful voice called out.

She sighed again, rolling her eyes, asking God "Why?" almost stomping to the door, but opening it nonetheless.

Jane smiled triumphantly at her and quickly stepped into their room before Lisbon could rethink her decision. He was dressed in his pajamas, pillow under one arm, deck of cards in his uninjured hand. He made his way to Lisbon's bed and took a seat, crossing his legs as he scooted back. He motioned to the women to join him on the bed then opened the deck of cards, handing them to Grace to shuffle.

"Just like a slumber party!" he exclaimed, "Maybe later we can play Truth or Dare."

"I wouldn't count on it," was Lisbon's droll reply, "We will play a couple games of cards then going to bed. We need to get up early tomorrow, we still have an open case."

"Spoil sport," he said, then directed his inquiry to the younger woman, "So what shall we play? Texas hold 'em? War? Bull Shit? Go Fish?"

"I think we'll stay away from bluffing games," Lisbon said, taking her seat at the foot of her bed.

"You have an unfair advantage," Van Pelt spoke up, still shuffling the cards.

Jane placed both hands over his heart, comical disbelief painted on his face, "I'm shocked ladies. You think I would use my abilities against you?"

"Yes," came the flat answer from both women.

They decided on playing Go Fish, which theoretically gave them all an equal chance of winning and no need for any bluffing or any particular skills. Halfway into the game, however, it became apparent that something was… fishy. Jane continually told the other two to "go fish" as he found pairs steadily. Very suspicious.

"You're cheating, you have to be," Lisbon finally accused.

"I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about. You're just jealous of my skills," Jane mocked.

"There are no skills in Go Fish to be jealous of, you have to be cheating," Lisbon insisted, craning her neck to try and peek at his cards.

"Hey! No peeking! If anything, you're the one who's trying to cheat," Jane said as he pressed his cards against his chest, leaning back against the head board.

"Grace, get his cards. That's an order," Lisbon said.

A rather ridiculous scene ensued as three fully grown adults participated in childish antics. Lisbon would blame it later on the delirious effects of a late night after a hard day's work.

Lisbon had finally pinned the blond man's arms down, Van Pelt plucked the cards out of his hands revealing that he did indeed have the cards they had been asking for in previous rounds. The brunette immediately released Jane, not wanting to cause an awkward scene in front of her subordinate by holding him a moment longer than necessary.

"Okay, that's it. We tried playing, it's late, we need to sleep," Lisbon finally announced.

"One more game?" Jane tried.

"No! You cheated playing Go Fish, no more games. Go to bed," she said sternly. Grace was still smiling, having had fun in a way she hadn't since leaving Iowa.

Had there been no one else but his Teresa in the room, he may have tucked himself into her bed, telling her he was doing what she told him to do, but as there was someone else, and he did value his life, he did not. It would have been such great fun to see her reaction.

"Can you blame a guy for being lonely? All of you have roommates," he teased as he collected his cards, Van Pelt assisting. Lisbon gave him a leery look as she took the cards and put them into the box. She ushered him off her bed and out of the door, he looked over his shoulder at Van Pelt who was situating herself back on her bed, "Good night Grace. Thanks for playing!"

Lisbon opened the door, just out of sight of her roommate as her bed was against the wall separating them from their bathroom and kitchen, and was ready to physically push the man out of the room into the hall when he turned and quickly pecked her on the cheek, knowing she couldn't yell at him for it if she didn't want to draw attention to it taking place.

"Good night Lisbon," he said for the benefit of his young coworker. Lisbon was glaring at him wondering if he'd been drinking, then shoved him out the door.

"Night Jane," she forced out. They really needed to talk about appropriate behavior. They had just barely made up for the weekend fiasco and already he was pulling this crap on her. Did he even remember her conditions on their relationship?

He was totally unapologetic, as he practically beamed at her, starting down the hall. The only thing that kept her from slamming the door shut and calling their relationship quits (against her better judgment) was also the look of adoration she caught. They have yet to express their feelings through certain words, but in that moment she had felt it, warming her. Things were getting out of hand.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes:** This might be among one of my favorite chapters.

Thank you Yana!

Thank you for leaving a comment shopping-luva91 (I'm glad you liked the last chapter!), lisbon69, mwalter1, MK (*shakes head* :-P), lisbonloafers, yaba/Yana (Writing for three people is hard enough, with Cho and Rigsby in the mix it would have been utter mayhem. MAYHEM!), Tallie14, xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Because… it's a secret? It's supposed to be a secret… they suck at secrets.), Hikaru Ceres (Yay Brownie Points! If only they actually amounted to something, like credit for Girl Scout cookies… Thanks as usual… as for yoga confessions, that sounds like a title of a story in itself. I was surprised to find out that Lisbon and Van Pelt went out after work together, much less do yoga. I wonder what that's like? I can't imagine VP calling Lisbon "Teresa" since I don't think I've ever heard her do that in the show…), Ebony10 (I'm glad I cause you to squee lol. I had almost forgotten that sentence, I wrote these chapters a couple weeks ago so I forget a few details like that.)

As always, please read and review! You guys rock!

**Chapter 9**

"Okay Teresa, you don't want to end our relationship again," Jane stated, staring out at the moving scenery.

"Wha-? No, no, where did that come from?" Lisbon said disbelievingly, eyebrows pressing together as she looked over at him.

The two were in the car on their way to Burbank, with Lisbon driving, of course.

"By your reaction I'd say I'm correct. You have been thinking about it, but I won't let you try to end it," he told her, smiling, but his eyes were completely serious.

Her mouth was practically gaping open, but she closed it firmly and faced the road again, "Fine, but do you know _why_ I may have been entertaining the thought?"

After a moment's thought Lisbon continued, "You agreed. We agreed that work and our personal life would stay separate. Not only did that mean no kissing in the office, or calling me Teresa, it also means that if we have a fight, or even end the relationship, that it doesn't affect our work."

"Teresa-"

"Don't 'Teresa' me!" she shot him a glare, gripping the steering wheel, "Monday you came to work hung over and with an untreated broken hand! I need your honest assurance that you won't be a jackass again. If something happens, fine, be mad at me, but it is not to interfere with our jobs. I've wondered if you could have picked something up at the scene Monday had you not been sick."

"Well-"

"No excuses!" she barked, shooting him another glare. His eyebrows raised along with his hands in surrender, his mouth closing, realizing he needed to let her finish her rant. She tried to focus on the road and spoke more calmly, "The next time you come to work like that you will be taking a leave of absence, or suspension if need be."

"Huuu," Jane breathed out, air having puffed out his cheeks, an eyebrow squinting down. All he got for his effort was another sharp look. She was a little upset, nothing unusual, but he didn't take his usual enjoyment out of it. Things would be so much easier if they were twenty years younger, or at least that's what he thought. That gave them more time to be hot and cold, at his age being upset was becoming more of a tiring process. If only she was more of a hedonist… but then she wouldn't be his Lisbon and he usually hated hedonists these days.

He decided not to question her on how she planned to enforce a suspension. Now wasn't the time if he wanted her to keep speaking to him… and if he didn't want her to make good on the threat of kicking him out of a moving car. She wouldn't really, he knew, but she just might pull over and leave him on the side of the highway to try and teach him a lesson if she was upset enough.

There was only the hum of the engine and vibrations of the worn asphalt under them. Finally Jane was certain Lisbon was calm enough and would feel that tinge of guilt for chewing him out so much, just enough to allow him to speak, though not enough to apologize (not that she needed to).

Before Jane could speak though, Lisbon spoke again, "You also can't act like you did last night."

"Oh come on, I do that all the time," Jane defended, "I get bored, so does everyone else, it's good to loosen up and play games once in a while. It maintains team morale."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it," she growled, not sparing him a look. Lisbon almost appeared to hunch over in her efforts to glower at the road.

Jane's features softened into a genuine fond smile, "Embarrassed by my affection?"

Lisbon almost sputtered, but she had tightly sealed her lips into a scowl, "We are out here with the rest of the team for _work_. I know you don't really understand the concept-"

"So you're saying if the others-"

"Shut up, you know what I meant," was her stern response to his grinning face, even as she fought the growing heat in her face. Though at this point it was hard to determine if it was the effects of anger, frustration, or embarrassment. Perhaps a mixture of all those feelings and more. Jane was enjoying this too much.

"Oh relax Teresa, you're going to get a headache," he said, refraining from rubbing her shoulder, she wasn't particularly touchy feely. He wasn't either, but was certainly making an exception for her. That, and she had expressly told him not to touch her while driving… but when did he ever listen to her? His conflicting thought was that of his self-preservation though since she was behind the wheel and didn't want to cause her to veer. He sighed.

"What?" Lisbon asked, almost confrontationally, "And really Jane, we're here for work. You can't just kiss me goodnight, somebody could have seen us, Grace practically did and she definitely suspects our relationship."

"So do Cho and Rigsby, but not to worry, they won't say anything," he said, enjoying her expression.

"Damnit!" she said, slamming a palm against the wheel, then sobered, "Well, it shouldn't really be a surprise. Cho probably had us figured out first and what Van Pelt knows Rigsby is likely to know. We can't go on like this. Jane, I need you to transfer to another unit if we're going to continue this."

"Whoa Teresa, we'll be fine," said a startled Jane, sincere concern written upon his face. He really wanted to calm her down before she became too irrational, at least in his mind.

Lisbon was shaking her head even as she continued to steadily drive, "I mean really, our relationship just flies in the face of my values. It's one thing to overlook relationships within the unit, but me, as the senior agent. I shouldn't be doing this."

"You're just getting cold feet," he soothed, carefully studying her profile. He saw a large brown sign along the roadside indicating a rest stop that included a place to eat, "You know, you're just cranky because you didn't have breakfast."

"Be serious," she ground out.

"I am. I am treating this quite seriously," Jane insisted, "There's a rest stop coming up. Why don't you pull over, we'll have some breakfast and you can relax for a moment."

The set of her jaw was becoming almost mulish, but then he threw in, "Really, I'm hungry, so if you would just pull over for me since I skipped out on breakfast too. We wouldn't be doing our jobs well on an empty stomach and I'm sure that you would be quite embarrassed if your stomach were to growl in the middle of your interview with Laura Snell."

"Fine," she finally answered. As long as she was in the act of taking care of someone else's needs and especially for the sake of her pride in her work, she would be convinced.

When they were parked in front of the restaurant Jane had come over to Lisbon and gave her a hug. She stiffened in his arms, due to the public venue. He pulled away from her with an incorrigible grin despite the chastising look she gave him.

Inside they were quickly seated, with menus placed in front of them. When the server came back Jane ordered a breakfast plate and tea, Lisbon just ordered coffee. The food didn't take much time to come.

"Oh, that's for her, thanks, I just want the tea," he told the older woman serving them, charming smile in place.

Lisbon waited until their server was out of earshot before whispering furiously, "Jane, this is your breakfast. I'm not eating it."

He gave her a knowing smile and said, "I knew you'd say that, but I already had breakfast before we left so you better eat up."

Lisbon just snorted at him and sipped at her coffee, pushing the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast away from her.

"Fine, if that's how you want to play it, I'll be driving the rest of the way," Jane said plainly, sipping his own tea.

Lisbon gave him her disbelieving smile, eyebrow cocked as she let out a short laugh, "How do you propose to do that? I have the keys."

Jane simply put his tea down and reached into his pants pocket, jingling her car keys in front of her.

Lisbon's eyes rounded in surprise and she almost lunged across the table, "Hey!"

"Uh uh," Jane said, keeping the keys out of reaching and slipping them back into his pocket, "You'll get your keys back when you finish breakfast and calm down."

The only thing keeping her from jumping to strangle the man was the fact that they were in a very public place with many witnesses. He could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface. She was about to ask how he got the keys when realization dawned on her.

"You took those when we were hugging!" she hissed, totally infuriated.

"You're eggs are getting cold," he calmly told her, taking another sip of his tea. The clatter of silverware and scraping of chairs against the linoleum floor accompanied the din of voices all around them. He briefly wondered if Teresa was at any risk for an aneurism. If she was, the way she looked currently would indicate a high risk.

Lisbon was taking deep breaths in an effort to calm herself, not wanting to cause a scene. If she had to be caught for murder, she did not want to be caught for the public murder of her wayward consultant/secret boyfriend. No, killing him would have to wait for the privacy of a hotel room, or her home.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I'm not doing this to be contrary, it's just a well known fact," Jane continued as she angrily stabbed her eggs with her fork, "and I care about you. You need a break from driving for a bit and all that stress."

"YOU are the cause of my stress and breakfast isn't going to help that at all unless part of the deal is that you won't talk for the rest of the day if I finish this," she grumped, taking a bite of her eggs. Seriously, what was this man's problem? Why did she even let him convince her to be in a relationship with him? Oh, that's right, she had been in a weakened state and for whatever reason she has feelings for this man.

Currently homicidal feelings.

Jane was leaning back in his seat, his left arm cradled in his lap as he gently smiled at her, watching her eat. He had a knack for pissing her off.

He loves her.

The thought didn't startle him, he was finally ready to accept that fact, though he had been preparing for it for a long time, unknowingly. She was stubborn, didn't give him much slack at all, and was so beautiful when she was angry, just totally livid. She could balance him as no other could, he wouldn't let anyone else, only her.

It was difficult to eat when she was fuming, but she choked down the food, bit by bit. She knew that this was Jane trying to be sweet to her; it showed that he cared about her physical health. She just wished he'd pay more attention to her mental health.

"Give me the keys," she finally said after finishing her plate. She held her hand out expectantly.

"No, I think I'll wait until I'm in the car," he answered cheerfully.

She fought her urge to snap and quietly withdrew her hand. Damn.

Jane paid for breakfast and they headed to the car, he unlocked it and climbed into the passenger side, giving her the keys after she was in the driver's seat. She looked at him warily as she practically snatched the dangling keys from him. The brass dug into her palm.

Just as she was pushing the key into the ignition she heard Jane say, "I love you, you know."

'_What the hell?'_ she thought as she turned wide-eyed and faced him.

"Can we not do this right now? I still need to drive another half hour and have to prepare myself to question a murder suspect," she said exasperatedly. Of all the times he chose to verbally confess it had to be in a car after riling her up, a forced breakfast break, and on their way to find a murderer. It was laughable were it anyone else. She would admit to feeling a flutter in her stomach and a sudden buzzing awareness of her surroundings that felt similar to being dazed.

"Oh my God Jane, you're giving me a headache," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand as she started the engine with the other. Jane was giving her a smile that caused the corners of his eyes to wrinkle, the kind that made people involuntarily smile back when they saw it.

She ignored him and turned on the radio, hoping he'd take the hint. He may feel ready, for whatever reason, to suddenly blurt out his love for her, but she wasn't. What is wrong with this man? She did not need to think about this right now and wished he had waited until the case was over, on the weekend, when she could have had a couple days to take it in and think. All she could do right now was try to box it and shove it in the back shelf of her mind as she went over what facts they knew about the Dunlop case.

Lisbon ignored the fact that most women would be celebrating when their man finally admitted their love for them, and reciprocating the sentiment. She wasn't most women and her man could be a thorn in her side, a pain in the ass, a major mess that she had to clean up during and after cases. Why did she like him at all? She sighed and again tried to force that box closed for another time.

Jane was totally relaxed in his seat, even went as far as to recline it back just a bit. He'd said it and didn't regret it. She was still upset at him, but knew that it was only a matter of time before she'd see it his way as far as expressing her warm feelings for him. Teresa was just reticent, especially when it came to expressing anything other than (threatened) violent disapproval (when it came to him) or the simple approval of "Good job" (when it came to her team). He loves her and there was nothing she could do about it.

He had closed his eyes then felt something warm settle on his knee briefly, a light squeeze, and then it was gone. He opened his eyes to spot a sight not often seen: Lisbon with slightly red tinted cheeks and shy smile as she stared down the road ahead.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes:** Thank you Yana for the editing!

Thanks to the following for reviewing: shopping-luva91, xxxBekaForEvaxxx, lisbon69 (It's been snowing all day yesterday and today where I am.), Ebony10, MK (Yes, Jane carefully planned that whole car ride I'm sure.), yaba (We don't get to see Jane take care of Lisbon much in the show as much as we see him try to apologize/cheer her up.), lisbonloafers (Glad you learned something ), SL727, bibou09 (Thanks for deciding to leave a comment! I couldn't tell by your writing that English isn't your first language, grammar and spelling seemed fine to me. I'm glad you like the story!), Hikaru Ceres (Glad you noticed the age deference. What Jane said was loosely based on what my mom said. She said something to the effect of realizing her age, she can't stay mad as long as she used to, arguing takes a lot of energy lol. I don't know what the character's ages are supposed to be, according to Wikipedia Jane is "about forty" and Lisbon is "mid thirties". The actors themselves are forty and thirty-seven respectively.)

Please read and review! Thanks!

**Chapter 10**

Jane and Lisbon arrived at Laura Snell's home and business in Burbank later in the morning. Van Pelt called them before to let them know that Snell was an interior decorator whose office and home were at the same address. It was apparent to the two in Burbank that the bottom floor of their suspect's house had been converted into a store front, which probably meant that the top floor was her personal living space.

Even from just observing the exterior of the building they could tell it was an older home, built perhaps about thirty years ago then remodeled. It was kept very well, the paint seemingly fresh with no chipped patches or faded color due to weather. There were flowers out front leading up the walkway to the office door, a homey touch that felt slightly artificial.

The large front windows allowed them to see that their suspect appeared to be with a client. They walked in, a bell rang, announcing their passage through the doorway. Laura Snell looked up and flashed them a welcoming smile, probably mistaking them for potential customers. Jane smiled back then immediately wandered around the showcase room, photographs all over the walls (presumably her past projects), framed magazine clippings, and panels with various samples from carpet to linoleum.

Lisbon was very direct when it came to an investigation and had already made her way to Snell, flashing her badge and explaining CBI business. Jane was watching the woman's reaction. Her inquisitive smile seemed to twitch just the barest amount, hardly noticeable, but the way the blood just drained from her face… Lisbon hadn't even explained why they were there yet. It just seemed to scream "GUILTY!!!"

Jane knew, however, that her reaction didn't necessarily mean she was the murderer. Possibly she was marginally involved, as marginally as not taking a threat seriously and then realizing (upon viewing police coming up to them) that the threat may have been valid and praying to whatever deity she believed in that it wasn't what she thought. He had a hunch, but kept it unformulated long enough to check the suspect's reactions, surroundings, and perhaps engage her himself just to confirm his theory.

Snell excused herself from her client, having been close to wrapping up their session when Lisbon and Jane had come in.

"What's this about?" she asked, anxiety apparent in her voice, as well as her attempt to mask it. The color of her face had improved, but she was still a tad too pale.

"We are investigating the murder of Samuel Dunlop," Lisbon stated, they could hear the home decorator's gasp as she covered her mouth with a shaking hand, she looked down to the side, possibly to hide tears.

"Why don't you take a seat," Jane said, playing the part of gallant gentleman, guiding the speechless woman to the low backed stool next to the island style table top she had been at with her client earlier.

After a moment Lisbon continued, standing in front of Snell, "What was your relationship with Mr. Dunlop?"

"Um, he was a client," she sniffed, using her fingertips to wipe under her tear reddened eyes. Lisbon restrained her natural reaction to raise a skeptical eyebrow. There was no way someone would have such a reaction if it was strictly a business relationship.

"How long have you known him?" Lisbon continued.

"Uh, for about six months," the sitting woman replied. She had finally pulled herself together, hands clasped together tightly over her black pencil skirt. Laura Snell seemed to have shrunk from her already diminutive stature, her slightly wavy bob cut making her appear childlike and showing the line of her thin neck.

"What did he hire you for?" Lisbon asked patiently.

"He uh- he bought a new home and wanted to surprise his wife," she stuttered.

"And I bet she was surprised by the affair," Jane quipped with his typical benign look.

"Huh-what?!" stammered the shocked woman, eyes large. Lisbon gave him "the look" that included pursed lips and the tired expression of disapproval. He was just voicing what they both suspected.

"It-it wasn't like that! We had a professional relationship," Snell defended, hands turning white from how tightly she was now clasping them together.

Jane stared at her, humored smile still in place, then he leaned away from her, brows lifting a bit as his eyes shifted away, tipping his head to one shoulder as he shrugged nonchalantly, "Okay, so you weren't in an affair, but you wished for one, a very one sided affair that Sam didn't feel comfortable with so he fired you. It's understandable that you'd be upset."

Snell just stared at Jane, mouth not quite hanging open. Then she finally got her wits about her and became indignant, "How dare you! What right do you have to-to accuse me of these things?"

Jane stood totally unfazed, as per usual, hands in pockets, "It's a free country. You should calm down, I'm pretty confident that you didn't kill him. In fact I'd say it was your jealous girlfriend- or boyfriend- the vibe you're sending me is a little mixed. I guess whatever the flavor of the month is."

"I'm terribly sorry Ms. Snell, excuse us a moment," Lisbon cut in as she dragged Jane away by his elbow and out the store door, leaving a very dumbfounded woman sitting alone.

"Jane, what the hell was that?" she asked in a harsh whisper as soon as the door closed, bell tinkling.

"She's not the killer, but she knows who is," Jane said simply.

Lisbon closed her eyes and finally released her hold on the consultant's elbow, "What was that about a girlfriend or boyfriend?"

"She's in a relationship, her partner found out about our little woman's attempted infidelity and likely killed Dunlop in a fit of jealousy," Jane calmly explained as though it were the most obvious thing.

"And where did you get this information? How do you even know that she's… lesbian? Bisexual? Don't tell me it was the type of hair product she uses or something equally ridiculous," Lisbon castigated.

"It was the way she looked at you," he replied.

"What?"

"Women naturally appreciate the beauty of both men and women, whereas men try to only focus on a woman's beauty, if women are their preference anyway. Generally when we interview women who are interested in men she may appreciate both our looks, but then size you up. Sure, many aren't even thinking about it, not their prerogative, just a subconscious action. Ms. Laura Snell wasn't sizing up either of us."

Lisbon stared at him dumbfounded, not even wanting to believe him, not sure how she should feel about his observation, then tried to brush it off, "That's totally ridiculous."

Jane grinned at her, "Not at all, we're very attractive people."

Lisbon waved her hands in the air, "Jane! That isn't what I'm talking about! You can't just generalize people like that. How do you even know she has a boyfriend or girlfriend? You know what? Never mind, I just need you to stay out here while I finish questioning her."

Jane shrugged; he was fine with that plan of action. He already got all the information he wanted and was pretty satisfied with himself, now he just waited for the evidence to fall into place, confirming that he was right.

Just before Lisbon opened the door, she turned around, pointing at him and pinning him in place with "the look". "Don't leave that spot. I don't want you wandering around and breaking into her personal living area, car, or anywhere else for that matter. Stay right there."

"Don't you trust me?" Jane asked in his most innocent voice, which wasn't really innocent at all.

She just narrowed her eyes at him, jabbing a finger at him in warning as she reentered the shop.

***

By Friday, the Samuel Dunlop case was closed. It did turn out that Samuel Dunlop had in fact been a faithful man (though Lisbon and others had suspected otherwise, it wouldn't be the first time) and had resisted Laura Snell's advances, having talked to her about it previously and firing her after a couple warnings of her misplaced affections.

True to Jane's predictions, Snell was in a committed relationship with a woman, Georgia Turner, who, upon discovering Snell's wavering affections had gone and killed Dunlop and was being charged with his murder. Snell had been in Palmdale stalking Dunlop, asking for another chance; however, she had nothing to do with the murder, not even as an accessory. The worst she'd get was being charged with forced entry into Dunlop's hotel room where she had waited for him to return from his morning ride.

Dunlop had found her waiting on his bed and immediately marched her out of the hotel, telling her to stop following him and that he didn't have any feelings for her. Apparently, he planned to have a restraining order put on her. They had gone to her car (as shown in the security videos) to find a place to talk and drove a short ways away. He didn't want his coworkers to see her and think he was cheating on his wife.

It was them in the car that Turner had seen. She had discreetly followed Snell out to Palmdale in her own car, knowing that Laura was hoping for a secret and illicit rendezvous with someone. Turner hadn't even known Dunlop, but assumed the worst seeing them coming out of the hotel, despite the arguing.

Snell dropped Dunlop off on the side of the empty road and sped off, leaving him to start walking back towards the hotel. That was when Georgia pulled over and shot him, dragging him into her trunk and drove down to Acton to dump the body.

Van Pelt had questioned why Snell would have gone after an unavailable man, when she herself was in a committed relationship with someone who loved her? This was something that couldn't be answered well, though Jane just left it with Dunlop being the unattainable and therefore prized. That and she was probably getting tired of her current relationship.

Jane sat next to Lisbon in the car ride back to Sacramento, it was still relatively early yet and they would arrive back with an hour to spare for office time to get started on their reports. Jane insisted that it could wait until Monday. Cho had chosen to ride with Rigsby and Van Pelt. Jane was overjoyed; Lisbon didn't know how to feel as it meant being trapped with someone who could potentially annoy her the whole trip, not to mention that she didn't trust him behind the wheel. They did, however, plan for a stop to pick up lunch.

Out of her peripheral vision, she could see Jane smiling to himself as he watched trees and buildings pass as they drove. She was going to ask what he was smiling about, but then gave it a second thought, wondering if she wanted to know and the possible repercussions of asking that this early in their long drive home.

Ten minutes had passed and he still had that smile on his face, but it was a rather soft smile. Once in a while he would glance over at her. She finally gave into her curiosity, "Okay, what are you smiling about now?"

"I can't just smile for no reason?" he asked. She rolled her eyes, but waited for an explanation.

"I'm looking forward to being on your couch," he finally said, directing his smile over at her.

"Oh?" she said, "And who says I'm going to let you?"

"You can't resist me and my charms Teresa, don't even pretend you can," he said, seeing right through her attempted straight face.

"We'll see if you don't aggravate me during this drive. I might let stay you if you behave," she teased, though the underlying threat was clear. He was confident that she wouldn't bar him from her home though. She loved him and he didn't even cause as much trouble this week. He had been a good boy… relatively.

Lisbon had started tapping a finger on the steering wheel to the beat of a song playing on the radio. The silence between the occupants of the car stretched on for three more songs before she spoke again, "How's your hand feeling?"

Jane tilted his head towards her, "Still aches, but I don't feel it much anymore. Getting used to the feeling actually."

He glanced down at his bandaged hand, yellowed bruises visible from the edge of the wrap. The swelling had gone down significantly and the bruises were starting to heal, no longer so much deep, dark colors, but lightening out already in yellows, pale greens and purples. There was a constant dull ache that had become a sort of background white noise over the past few days, held at bay with prescribed medication.

"You know, you did promise to fix my wall. Do you even know how to do manual labor?" she asked skeptically, though jokingly.

"I'm wounded by your doubt in my skills. I am quite capable of calling professionals," he told her, hand over heart.

Lisbon laughed and muttered, "Figures."

"Were you hoping to see me working in torn jeans and grubby t-shirt this weekend?" Jane asked suggestively, as if it was a forbidden image. Now that he had put the thought in her head… that might actually be sexy. Him actually working for a change, she smiled privately while Jane gave her a perplexed smile.

"Oh seriously Teresa, is that a fantasy of yours?" he asked, coming to a realization, "You are an absurd bird, but that's why I love you."

She blushed, but kept her eyes on the road. One part of the blush was that she had actually started fantasizing about him in work clothes, the other part was his declaration of love.

"You're crazy," she muttered to him, still rather red in the face.

"Which is why we're perfectly matched," he retorted, smiling at her again.

The changing landscape rolled by, wisps of white clouds streaking the otherwise blue sky.

"I love you too."

The whisper was so quiet, almost covered by the radio that Jane almost missed what his companion said.

His smile grew as he beamed at her, then sat back, restraining the urge to hug her that very moment. He knew she'd come to see things his way soon enough. If only she hadn't been driving when she said it though. If he believed in it, he might have said it was karmic retribution for him having randomly (in her opinion) confessed his love to her while she had been driving. Regardless, he was happy and they had the weekend. He hadn't felt this level of contentment and joy for a long time.

"Want to play 'Slug Bug'?" Jane suddenly asked.

Lisbon threw him a sour look, sprinkled with exasperation and astonishment, then replied dryly, "How about 'Driver Slugs Passenger'?"

"No, that sounds more like a sensational headline," Jane opined.

"And it will be if you keep up this line of insanity," Lisbon threatened.

There was silence save the radio.

Lisbon was first to break, a laugh coming out that she couldn't hold in anymore as it threatened to become a snort. Jane smiled widely at her, her laughter a fine song to his ears. He really wished he could throw an arm around her in this moment. It would have been perfect.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes:** Thank you yaba!

Thanks to the following for leaving a review: Simonisthecuttestmentalist, shopping-luva91, The Lonely Fox, Hikaru Ceres (I do agree Jane has an eye for detail and apparently the ability to build… not sure about it as far as hammers and nails go, but can do other things. You can find out how he does in the next chapter I believe.), xxxBekaForEvaxxx, mwalter1, martini crazy, SL727, lisbonloafers, Yana (I very much think that Lisbon hates to show embarrassment and such so she's either very shy because she just can't help it, or overcompensates by becoming angry to try to cover up what she's feeling. Thank you for taking your time to do a great job on editing. It's a… difficult chapter… yes, it certainly has been a ride, about a 3 month ride?), Ebony10

**Chapter 11**

For once Lisbon let Jane drive.

More like he coerced and then hid her keys, not too difficult since she was tired from the six hour drive anyway. Wrapping up what they could at the office they had arrived in their separate cars to her place. They were in need of dinner (of the premade variety), which was not forthcoming in Lisbon's stainless steel refrigerator. Lisbon almost settled for the ice cream left in her freezer.

Jane drove relatively within speed limits, Lisbon being too tired to even remonstrate him more than a handful of times. The grocery store was fairly close in any case and she had survived in longer car rides with him behind the wheel.

They were going to shop for microwavable meals, deli section foods, things that were easy to prepare and would hold them over for the weekend at least. Jane and Lisbon had split up, each carrying a shopping basket to expedite their shopping venture.

Lisbon tried to cover her yawn as she walked down the refrigerated section of the store, picking up some meals she thought Jane might like and the ones that were her standard most weekdays. The lights built into the units holding the food caused a glare that made it look like everything was sparkling. She didn't know that food packages could be so reflective. She looked to the side upon hearing a squeaky wheel, a middle aged man was pushing the cart, child sitting in front of him and a woman, presumably his wife, walking alongside him with a hand resting on the handle.

Perhaps it was because she was tired, but Lisbon had an odd feeling when she saw them. Maybe she has seen them before on a previous shopping trip here?

The CBI agent made her way to the cash registers, waving caught her attention; Jane had been waiting for her. In the row of identical, rectangular beige cash registers, each with a boxy number lamp and short, black conveyer belts, eight of twenty were lit up.

Jane and Lisbon quietly stood in line, two people ahead of them. Jane pulled out his wallet and waved off Lisbon's soft protest, it was only fair he paid once in a while since he did eat from her kitchen most weekends. She gave him a light shove in the shoulder, thanking him. Jane may have given her a quizzical smile had he been someone else, but he knew that was her way of showing affection when she didn't know how else to… and she was very tired.

They made their way back to her home, this time being able to see the place in its entirety, no longer in a rush to shop. Jane saw half of a stale bagel sitting on the counter, some crumbs surrounding it. The hole was staring at him, making him feel a twinge of guilt for having felt furious enough to cause its presence. He noticed how unchanged the living room was from when he had been there last.

"Let's eat, what do you want?" Lisbon asked, looking up at him from the emptied bags, food laid out on the small kitchen counter.

Jane had gotten cooked green beans, mashed potatoes, and rotisserie chicken, still warm from the deli section. The two pulled out plates and quietly ate at the table near the front door, he offered to clean up since she had driven all day.

After eating, she took him up on his offer and went upstairs while he cleared and cleaned the plates. He was putting away the towel dried dishes when she came back. Jane turned to send a smile her way when he noticed she was wearing "The Jersey". It was capitalized in his mind as there was no other jersey as significant to him as that one. His mouth seemed to go dry, if only slightly. It didn't matter to him that she was wearing shorts under them in an attempt at some modesty; he was still getting to see legs that were normally covered, even on the weekends he's stayed over. She looked at him shyly then, self-conscious under his sultry gaze, and looked away towards the television that had yet to be turned on.

Lisbon swallowed then spoke softly, "Your overnight bag is here, so you could go get changed into sleep clothes…"

"True enough," he responded, catching up his bag by the door and making his way to her. He pecked her on the cheek and she looked up at him, "I'll be right back down."

He pulled away and made a sort of jaunty walk up the stairs, if it could be called that. Her eyes followed him up then she turned to find the TV remote and find something to watch.

Jane came padding back down, having removed shoes and socks. He saw that Teresa could barely keep her eyes open as she stared at the TV, leaning back into her couch, legs tucked up under her.

"Maybe you should go to bed," he suggested, slight regret niggling at the back of his mind as he had been looking forward to the weekend routine of watching something together on the couch, just to be by her side in private.

"No, that's okay. Let's watch this a while," she insisted, sitting up, trying to open her eyes a bit more.

He didn't argue, didn't want to, and sat next to her. She then buried herself into his side and he wrapped right arm around her, happy that it was her immediate response. The usual would have been for them to be in the middle of a movie for this to happen, then drifting off to sleep (or pretending to). Her warm weight against his side, her hand resting on his stomach, was one of the best feelings. She was close enough for him to smell her, warmth and woman emanating from her. She yawned against him.

Jane pulled her closer, kissing her on the crown of her head and pulled back, looking down at her, "You don't need to stay up with me. Go to bed, we'll see each other in the morning."

She looked up at him then, her face slightly flushed, which could be a result of her drowsy state, "I want to be with you."

Would it be okay for him to think she was like a cuddly kitten? A very fluffy, sleepy kitten. No, scratch that, a very lethargic, sexy woman.

"Don't worry, I'll still be here," he said, smiling down at her, touched by her sentiment and wondering why he was trying to dissuade her.

"The couch isn't really comfortable… you could-" she stopped, looking away from him, embarrassed as she realized how it sounded. She really was sweet when she was tired. The alternative was a snappish, grouchy Lisbon, which he was more than acquainted with. Perhaps the shift in their relationship this week had finally allowed this more vulnerable side of her to surface for him.

He was done trying to reject any of her offers; he wasn't in love with her couch after all.

"You know what Teresa?" he asked, getting her to look up at him, green on green, he found the somewhat blotchy flush in her cheeks very becoming, "I'd love to share a bed with you. No taking it back now, because this couch has been on a campaign against my back since the beginning. I just hope your bed is more forgiving."

His words caused her to have that look of disbelief then crooked smile, "This couch is just fine. It's because you're an old man."

"I resent that!" he declared, then attempted to point at her with his left hand, causing him to grimace for a moment, "and I resent you," he added to his broken hand, giving it a frown.

They turned out the lights and made their way upstairs, Teresa's heart starting to pound in her chest after coming back down from their momentary levity. He was right behind her, following her to the bedroom. She paused to open the door, feeling him press against her back, his arm came around her and he kissed her neck. She almost shivered, her heart hammering against her ribs now, breath catching in her throat.

"Sorry," he whispered into her ear, warm arm falling away, "I just wanted to do that."

"That's okay," she replied evenly. This was almost as awkward as she imagined it would be for teens. Okay, maybe "awkward" wasn't the right word, but it was something. Exciting.

Teresa got into her unmade queen sized bed from the left side so Patrick took the right. He let out a sigh as his head made contact with a pillow and not the hard armrest of Lisbon's college dorm reject couch. The sheets were cool to the touch and they straightened the blankets over them. He then thought about how strewn they had been and winced again at the reminder of their fight. He was glad that was over with, in fact, they made a lot of progress. He didn't imagine himself being in the same bed with her a week after that.

Teresa was so still he wondered if she had fallen asleep already. Though, her breathing pattern didn't indicate sleep at all. She was rather lying stiffly next to him. Patrick frowned. That would do no good. He realized that she was too afraid to make any movement herself and was perhaps waiting in baited breath for him. He turned his head from staring at the dark ceiling towards her, finding her silhouette against the dim glow that came around the edges of her bedroom curtains.

He was quite aware of her next to him, though they were not touching. He knew she was hyperaware of him as well. He slowly reached a hand out, but before making contact he spoke quietly, "Might you be more comfortable over here?"

Teresa realized Patrick sounded like he was speaking to a frightened child especially as she felt his fingertips graze her arm. She was thankful he wasn't making fun of her. He rarely showed such tenderness. She was rather getting annoyed at herself acting like a naïve little girl, so much so that she caused him to treat her as such. She slept _on top_ of this man, on a couch for crying out loud! Who did that then became shy in a large bed? But… she hadn't had a man in her bed in years, opening the door to him also opened the door to so many other possibilities…

Teresa rolled over into Patrick, her hips against his side, his arm under her. She cautiously threw a leg over his then relaxed, nose pressed into his chest as they held each other. She took a deep breath and seemed to just melt into him. Patrick would be lying if he said he wasn't aroused by all this, but knew this was only to sleep and she was tired. He would savor every moment of having her just there next to him, wrapped around him was actually more correct to say.

She was soon asleep and he was happy to let her, just marveling at how comfortable she was with this now. He was so deliriously happy to be in bed with her in his arms, that as corny or mushy as it could sound, he almost wanted to cry. Not that he would, it was just the feeling. He could, however, think of other things that would cause him even more happiness, but it was too early for that. They had finally just gotten to the point where they could innocently sleep in bed with each other. He suspected that her previous relationship had not ended up in bed so innocently though. He tossed the thought away. That didn't matter, she was with him now, and just wanted to sleep, just sleep, with him.

Patrick rarely slept in a bed these days, mostly when they had an out of town assignment. Also, the last time he slept with someone in the same bed as him had been more than six years ago, with his wife. He began stroking Teresa's hair gently with his left hand, soothing himself as he tucked her hair behind her ear and continued the action, enjoying the texture of her strands and the side of her neck he came into contact every few strokes. He breathed her in. There was more meaning for her to invite him into her bedroom to just sleep than for anything else, for her to fall asleep against him almost immediately.

Patrick realized that it might be good to call Michael and let him know things were great. Unless Teresa wanted him to sweat it out. Whatever, he'll let her handle that.

He luxuriated in the feeling of being in a proper bed, though he had been in a bed every night all this week, but this was different. He got to (attempt) to sleep tonight with the memory of Teresa very shyly telling him she loved him, with her wrapped around him. If only he could sleep now. Patrick was getting hot with her pressed against him and covers over them, so he flipped the covers off of his left side. He didn't realize that she was such a cuddler. He couldn't help but compare her with his wife, not in who was better, but the differences. His wife had been affectionate, but in bed they lay side by side, usually not curled into each other, she complained it got too hot, which was fine since he found it got too hot as well and was content just having her next to him.

He looked forward to learning more about Teresa though. Jane grinned to himself, based on her slightly untidy housekeeping… he still maintained his opinion about messy women. If she knew what he was thinking about she would likely turn red (_'How far down her body would she blush?'_) and possibly kick him out of bed if her mortification was at the right level…

He really needed to fall asleep.

Knowing what he does about hypnosis one would think he would be able to try and meditate, relaxing himself enough to fall asleep. He's tried before in the previous few years without much success, not wanting to fall asleep in most cases because of what awaited him when his eyes closed. He was, however, more at peace now than ever. He closed his eyes, briefly tensing his body then finger by finger, limb by limb, relaxed each and every muscle one at a time, he focused on his breathing, the steady in and out of air through his nose and mouth, down his throat, into his lungs, clearing his head.

Patrick's eyes opened and he let out a huge sigh, he tiredly looked over at Teresa's bedside alarm clock. Maybe half an hour passed since he tried falling asleep. He turned his face to the ceiling again and his head sank back into his pillow. He slowly let out another breath and started tapping his fingertips on top of the mattress, then stopped after receiving a protesting twinge from his hand. Sleepless nights were a bad habit he had to break.

"Can't sleep?"

He was startled by Teresa's drowsy voice and craned his neck down to see her face.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" he asked, he started rubbing her side with his right hand, arm still wrapped around from underneath her.

"It's okay," she said softly, "something on your mind?"

"Nothing in particular," Patrick murmured. He had stopped rubbing her side, but felt her hand slide up and down his clothed stomach. It amused him and reminded him of how he had tried to get his daughter to fall asleep in her crib as a baby.

"My daughter's name was Sophie," he said.

Teresa quietly listened, continuing to slowly stroke his stomach, now in a more circular fashion. Just when she was about to nod off after a long silence he spoke again, "She was a fussy baby, we wondered if we'd ever get any sleep. I think it took four months for her to finally have a proper sleeping pattern. Diane was ready to tear my hair out," he didn't chuckle, but sounded like he would have, "she made sure I had my share of late nights with our daughter, I used to be a sound sleeper before the baby."

He had stopped talking and Lisbon lay quietly, resting her hand, only grazing her fingers in little circles and random designs.

"I think I've had each of my brothers crawl into bed with me at least once when we were kids, but mostly Kev. After Mom died he'd have dreams that she was still alive, then when he woke up he'd sneak to Dad's room, but not even Dad was there half the time, so he'd freak out and come to the room that I shared with Mikey," Teresa explained, sliding her arm over his torso to hold him.

Teresa was again wandering the edge between sleep and wakefulness when she heard the rumble in Patrick's chest as he whispered again after a long pause, "Teresa?"

"Hm?" she mumbled, ready to slip into unconsciousness at any moment, eyes closed.

"Do you want to have kids?" came the quiet question. There was another stretch of silence that he thought she fell asleep again.

"Patrick?"

"Yes?"

"Go to sleep."

Patrick did chuckle this time in his chest, disturbing Teresa's resting head. She rolled off of him and he worried that she would go to her side of the bed. Instead she pulled herself up so her head was up on the pillow and brought her gentle hands to the sides of his face. He was curious as to what she was doing and allowed her to guide his head. Teresa pulled on Patrick's left shoulder, having him roll onto his side, their positions almost reversed from moments ago. She pulled him over, his head now resting on her soft chest and he wondered at her unthinking daring to do so.

"Teresa?"

"Shhh."

Then he heard her steady heartbeat, his ear directly on top of her sternum. This is what she must be looking for when she slept on top of him on the couch, when she curled into him earlier that night. She ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, and didn't seem to mind the weight of him against her despite the significant difference in mass.

With the combination of the steady beating of her heart, breathing, gentle caresses, and warmth Patrick fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Notes:** yaba (Thank you as usual, and extra thanks for the grueling editing marathon you have endured for Chapter 18, I'm sure everyone will be quite appreciative of your efforts.), lisbonloafers, xxxBekaForEvaxxx, mwalter1 (I liked that segment too.), The Lonely Fox, Hikaru Ceres, Ebony10 (Have you seen some of the couches in a college dorm? Ew. LOL!), MK.

Thank you all for you kind reviews! Perhaps you softies may like this chapter as well…

Please read, enjoy, and review! Your reviews sustain me until my next feeding… :-P

**Chapter 12**

Patrick came to awareness, feeling something warm and soft beneath his head. He slowly opened his eyes and remembered the previous night. He lifted his head briefly to glance at Teresa's digital alarm clock which read four-oh-eight AM. He rested his head again. Not bad, not bad at all. It must be the longest uninterrupted sleep he's had in a very long while. They had gone to bed considerably early, too early really, some time before ten o'clock, closer to nine.

The dark blond man noted that Teresa's right hand had fallen to her side while her left had been resting against his head, having slipped off after he moved to see the time. He had about an hour before she probably woke up, which would hopefully be enough time for his morning friend to go away, the one currently pressed against her thigh. It was quite a mystery to him, he knew that it was a natural reaction that had nothing to do with sex, but still it was strange biology that could cause awkward morning conversation. Well, it's happened before, on the couch and Teresa had woken up a couple times just after it did. She never commented on it.

Speaking of biology, he was hearing the call of nature. Patrick carefully pulled away from Teresa, pulling bed covers up around her to keep her warm in his absence and slowly rolled off the bed, planting bare feet on her carpeted floor. He made his way out into the hall to visit the bathroom.

When he came back he saw that Teresa had turned over onto her side, curling into the spot he had vacated, still asleep. He noted the warmth of the bedroom in general, particularly the comfortable smell of her and clean sheets, maybe the faint scent of softener on them. He stayed leaning against the bedroom doorframe for a while, contemplating. There was no way he would fall asleep again, he felt fully rested, for which he credited his amazing woman. He didn't really feel like doing anything, though breakfast in bed might be a wonderful notion if he could bring himself to leave her to possibly wake up alone. Besides, he could stay in bed and just enjoy watching her.

Decision made, he padded over to the bed and carefully slipped in under the covers, moving himself close to Teresa, laying on his side to face her as she was. He stared at her relaxed, sleeping face, her lips seemed to almost form a pout. He brought a hand up, taking a finger to brush back strands of hair that had fallen across her face and tucked it back behind her ear, kissing her forehead. It was still dark outside and more so in this curtained room. He wished he could see her features more clearly.

He noticed her breathing pattern change a little and decided to take some liberties. He gently put his arms around her, pulling their bodies close to each other and trailed kisses down her face and pressed his lips against the corner of hers. He felt her shift, hands coming up his chest. She breathed in deeply and opened her eyes, tilting her head back so she could actually see him. She brought a hand up to rub her bleary eyes and swallowed to try and clear her sleep induced dry mouth.

"What time is it?" she croaked, then cleared her throat.

"Somewhere around four thirty," he replied, still watching her, "you can go back to sleep."

She breathed out through her nose, then yawned, burrowing into his chest with what felt like a nod of agreement. The movements of her pliable, lithe body were unintentionally reawakening a part of his anatomy. He almost rolled his eyes and sighed as he calmed himself down as if to say "Seriously? You're going to do that now when she's sleeping again?"

He laughed silently at himself and rolled onto his back, pulling Teresa with him, her upper body laying down on top of him. She found her spot on top of his chest, he now knew she was searching for his heartbeat, and settled in again, arms resting against his biceps as he linked his hands around her lower back. She'd probably wake up with an imprint of a button on her cheek.

Patrick managed a restive state that wasn't sleeping, but similar to his daily dozing on the couch with the added bonus of having Teresa in his arms. It was almost an hour after she first woke up that he felt her shift in his arms, moving up then felt her press her lips against his, he tightened his hold on her. She rarely initiated kisses. He felt something warm and wet tentatively brush his lip and almost opened his eyes as he gave a grunt of approval, her hand traveled to this side of his face as their tongues slid against each other momentarily. They came apart panting, Patrick's right hand massaging the back of Teresa's neck. He saw she had a beautiful blush across her cheeks as she met his gaze and smiled up at her, "Good morning to you too. You're in a good mood."

Teresa lightly cleared her throat and glanced to the side, a small smile affixed to her face and she rested her forehead against his for a moment, eyes closed. She abruptly pushed herself off of him and announced, "I'm going for a run."

He was stunned by her sudden move. One moment she was doing a terrific job of seducing him and the next she was going around the room to change for an early morning jog as if nothing happened. He'd lived with a woman and a girl for about a decade of his life, could read people usually very accurately, but women still held a certain mystery about them in some parts. Right now he was exhibiting the more male one track mind as he sat up in bed and watched Teresa open the curtain, only pre-dawn light filtering through, gather up her running clothes from a dresser drawer and flashed him a brilliant smile before he could think to move. She was out of the room and down the hall to dress in the bathroom presumably.

She was absolutely stunning in more than one sense of the word.

Patrick flopped back onto bed and stared at the ceiling. A rather goofy grin spread across his face as he recalled what happened just moments ago. He shook his head, what an absolutely great way to start the day, though he had nothing to do really, not if she was going out for a run. Teresa ran a few times on previous weekends he had spent at her place and only once, very skeptically, asked if he wanted to join her. Her skepticism was well founded as he informed her that he'd rather have her sleep on the couch with him.

He heard the bathroom door swing open down the hall and her footsteps come to the bedroom, he propped himself up on his elbows as she sat down on his side of the bed and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. What a mother like thing for her to do. He stopped her from pulling away with a hand on the back of her head and grabbed her around the waist, flipping her over and under him (with a squeak of surprise) to plant a proper kiss on her mouth. She turned her head away after a few seconds to breathe and pushed him away.

"Okay, I'm going to go running now. I'll be back in about an hour," she told him, not to be dissuaded.

"I'll make it worth your while," he rumbled, leaning in again, his eyes sparkled mischievously.

Teresa stopped him again, firmly planting her hands against his chest, a playful quality to her own eyes that was often absent, but an apologetic look accompanied them as well, "Sorry, I didn't mean to tease you. I was just…" she trailed off, somber undertones tainting her carefree look, becoming serious, but a soft gaze took off any edge as she looked at him, "I was just very happy to see you were still here."

The seductive smile had dropped from his face and became contemplative. Teresa disentangled herself from him and gave him a chaste peck to his cheek before heading out, giving him another smile at the doorway.

Patrick let out a sigh as he read into their brief interaction and what she said. Teresa definitely had abandonment issues going back from when she was a child, which she tried to protect herself by trying to remove herself from socializing too much. The issue was likely compounded by some past jackass who left her while she was sleeping. Did she not get any breaks in her personal life? Whatever, he was here now and not planning to go anywhere, their loss was his gain.

Then Jane remembered something he had wondered about and turned to look at Lisbon's bedside table complete with lamp, digital alarm clock, and a few coins. He rolled over and pulled himself to her side of the bed, reaching out, opening her drawer. How predictable, her journal, but that wasn't what he was looking for. There was also a couple notepads from hotels, pens, even rubber bands. Was this woman that in love with the office that she had to have office supplies in her own bedroom? He dug into the back of the drawer, sitting up on the edge of the bed now. There it is. Jane pulled out a small, cardboard box, opening it and pulling out the contents, letting the foil squares unfold almost comically like pictures in a wallet. Hm, looks like it was only missing one according to the count on the box, and they all expired about a year ago. He knew that the average shelf life was about five years. She was likely too embarrassed to try to throw them away and had them sitting in her bedside drawer when she moved to this place. Unless she had another box hidden somewhere, he took some perverse joy in the fact that she hadn't, apparently, been with another man in years, possibly before she took the job at the CBI headquarters. Unless… unless she took birth control pills and didn't worry about her partner wearing a condom. This caused him to frown deeply and he shook his head. No need to be the jealous type, he's a good man and knows she loves him. That was all that mattered. Of course it wouldn't hurt to check if she did indeed have pills, for medical purposes of course.

Jane knew they weren't in the bathroom medical cabinet; he had investigated that the first time he had been in her home so long ago. One could tell a lot about a person by what was in their medical cabinet. It wasn't in her drawer… likely her purse. It was something you had to take without fail everyday and since most days of the week were spent out of the home she had to be carrying it. He did in fact find the compact-shaped plastic case in her purse. It didn't tell him anything other than the fact she took the pills, a variety of reasons to do so ranging from skin conditions to regulating her menstrual cycle. He would bet, seeing how petite and relatively thin she is that she took them to regulate herself. Jane carefully placed the item back where he found it, exactly as he found it. Curiosity sated, he turned in the living room and saw the hole in the wall. Right. He needed to get that fixed.

***

Lisbon ran in a steady beat along with the high energy music she had loaded in her mp3 player especially for running. The city was slowly waking up, the sun was officially above the horizon, warming the cool air, morning birdsong had tapered off. Very few people were up at this time, but she did pass a few other joggers. Even as her mind cleared it turned inward, her thoughts going back to the events of the previous night and this morning.

She couldn't believe she successfully asked Patrick to share her bed. It helped that she had been tired, but still, it was a surprise to herself and she was glad it happened. He was opening up; it was the first time she had heard the name of his wife and child from his own lips, speaking of his life before.

Children.

Another subject brought up. After having joined CBI and not having any prospective partners year after year, she had resigned herself to a life dedicated to her work, family were those she worked with, and gave up the thought of having her own children. This is crazy, she had been with Jane for barely a few months, hadn't even thought of marriage, and he brought up children? Though, if she was honest with herself, she couldn't imagine being with anyone else. He didn't let her push him away for long, and he made her happy. Sure, in the office he drove her practically insane, annoyed her like no other with his blithe observations about everyone (including her), and his disregard for regulations and code of conduct… but maybe that's why she fell for him.

He did things that others only wished they could. Even Lisbon had the occasional fantasy about telling off the local stuffy sheriff, angry about her taking over the case, that she was a woman and younger than them and yet had more authority.

Children.

If she were to have any, who would be better than with Patrick Jane? He clearly loved them and though he usually avoided physical contact with people, he gladly picked up children, played with them, talked with them. She shook her head, what was the use of imagining children with him? They weren't married, who would stay home with them? There was also the worry that though they weren't working the most high risk job since really her job was that of an investigator and coordinator for local authorities and her team, they did face danger out on the field. She had scars, one most recently from a bullet and incidental surgery with her in a coma. Was it even safe to have kids at her age?

Why was she even thinking of these things? It was a useless waste of time.

Lisbon had slowed down for a quick cool down walk heading back home. She stopped at the stairs leading up to her door for stretching. As she made her way up, she wondered what Patrick was up to, sleeping? Watching TV?

Unlocking and opening the door, she stepped in and immediately spotted Jane in the living room wearing a t-shirt he had tucked into his slacks and was bare footed.

"How was your run?" he asked, turning towards her. She then noticed he was wearing a shirt Kev had left behind, which she had left it folded in the laundry room. An old Black Sabbath shirt of all things which looked quite incongruous on the usually three piece suit bedecked man. Lisbon saw that there was a plastic bag on the floor by the wall with the logo of a home improvement store and in his hands he held a small plastic bucket. She grinned at him in amusement as she got herself a glass of water in the kitchen.

"It was good. I didn't know there were any stores open this early in the morning," she said, briefly wondering if he may have actually broken into the store.

"You'd be surprised, this place opens at six in the morning, lucky me," he mumbled, concentrating on reading the instructions. He had gotten a few tips on how to go about patching a fist-sized hole by one of the store clerks; the big man had looked rather amused when Jane asked after the clerk spotted the suited man's bandaged hand.

"Well, I'm going to go and take a shower. Make sure you put some newspaper down before you really get started," she told him as she walked by, taking off the elastic strap of her mp3 player armband, as she made her way to the stairs she leaned over the banister, "and please, take your time. I want to get a picture of you doing honest work."

Jane jerked his head up at that and stared at her as she gave him a cheeky grin and made her way up the stairs. He had half a mind to show her how well he could work and the other half to follow her upstairs.

Lisbon came back down the stairs about thirty minutes later, hair towel dried but still damp, a towel draped around her neck. She wore a t-shirt and yoga pants, comfortable clothes for in the home. Jane seemed to have made some progress, he had laid newspaper down and seemed to have a piece of wood inserted into the hole in the wall, holding it by a string wrapped around it with one hand as he built up what looked like plaster in front of it, filling in the hole. Well, that was a method she wouldn't have thought of. She thought it would involve cutting the hole into a square shape and inserting a piece of drywall, or something, to fit right in the hole.

Lisbon walked over to her shelves and desk and dug around, finally finding her camera and took a picture just as Jane turned to see what she was doing. The image on the viewer was that of Jane slightly bent over and head over his shoulder with a partially raised eyebrow, half open eyes.

"You were serious about taking a picture?" he asked, pausing in his work for a moment, one hand still holding the ends of the string, hole almost covered, "how about helping me?"

"Oh no, I think I'll let you handle that. It looks like you have it under control," she informed him giving him a too serious look, effect ruined by her smiling eyes, but then joined by a grin, "in fact, I'll just enjoy watching you work."

She left him after a moment, pouring herself a bowl of cereal and some milk then planted herself in the cushioned seat behind him, turning it so that she could watch up close as she ate.

"You're really enjoying yourself," he commented as he dabbed in the final bit of plaster for the first stage of the patch. It would have to dry for several hours before he tried to put in the final layer to level it with the surface of the wall.

"What can I say? I'm a woman of simple tastes," she shrugged, eating another spoonful of cereal.

He waited a couple minutes for the plaster to set and slowly let go of the strings; the preliminary patch held. He brushed his hands off and stepped back, admiring his own work. Before Lisbon could say anything he said, "It's not finished, I have to wait for it dry before I put on the final layer."

"Oh," she said, looking slightly disappointed and looked down into her bowl.

Jane laughed as he closed the lid on the small tub of plaster, "I think I know what to get you for your next birthday."

"What?"

"I could try to remodel your office."

Lisbon gave him a disbelieving smile, it pulling at one corner of her mouth in the way he adored, "I don't think so. It's enough to see you patch up a small hole."

Lisbon had finished her breakfast and was rinsing out her bowl in the sink when her phone rang. She quickly dried her hands, Jane passing her cell phone to her, "It's Michael."

"Hey Mikey," she said, taking a seat at the small table near the door.

"_Hi Tessa. Just wanted to call since we didn't really get much a chance last time…"_ he trailed off uncomfortably.

Lisbon smirked, it wasn't often she got to have one of her brothers feel like that, what with them and their wives/girlfriends having been bugging her for years about her personal life, or lack thereof.

"Sorry I had to cut you off last week," she said, totally at ease.

"_No problem, I guess you were busy,"_ she heard him clear his throat,_ "I didn't cause any problems between Patrick and you did I? Because I didn't mean to, I really like the guy because I know he'll look after you. You really shouldn't be mad at him, it was all my fault, I just had a couple beers and just started letting my mouth run-"_

Teresa was just enjoying the verbal squirming, but started to feel a little guilty, that was enough, "Mikey, it's okay, everything's fine. We just had to have a talk and clear some things up."

"_Really?"_ he sounded doubtful, probably wondering what had happened, _"You didn't kill him did you?"_

Lisbon laughed a little and answered somewhat conspiratorially, "No, nothing like that, just throttled him a bit and threw him in the back of the car."

"You know, I'm right here," Jane said, taking a seat across the table from her.

"See, proof that he's still alive," Lisbon said nonchalantly, waving one hand up.

"_I'm so relieved to hear that, hold on a moment, Terry and Sara want to talk to you-"_

She heard the shifting of the phone, it sounded like it swept across some fabric and was being turned around in hands, probably, with Mikey in the background telling his kids they could talk to Aunt Tessa.

"_HI AUNT TESSA!"_ came the loud voices in unison, she held the phone away from her head with a slight wince, Jane was grinning at her as he relaxed in his chair.

"Hi guys! How are you?" she asked them, smiling.

"_Good!"_ replied Sara, apparently Terry passed the phone off to the younger sibling to talk first.

"_Have you been getting into trouble?"_

"Aunt Tessa" heard her niece giggle, _"Nooo! I'm good!"_

"_No she's not!"_ Terry added in from a distance.

"_Yes I am!"_ Sara yelled, obviously facing away from the phone's mouthpiece, for which Lisbon's ears were eternally grateful.

"I heard you're doing ballet, do you like it?" the aunt continued, bringing the conversation back on track.

"_Yah! I really, really like it! We're going to have a ballet recital! Can you come?"_ came the excited voice.

Just as she heard Mikey start to explain to little Sara, Teresa explained herself, "I'm so sorry Sara, I'd love to come, but I live way over in California, it's too far away."

She could almost hear the pout, "But I'll be over for Christmas this year, I promise."

"_Okay,"_ came the disappointed reply. Lisbon hated that, but there wasn't anything she could really do.

"I love you Sara, sorry honey," she tried again.

"_It's okay. Terry's turn now, bye bye."_

"Okay, bye. Hey Terry, what have you been up to?"

Jane studied Lisbon as she talked, the softening of her features and constant smile reserved for talking to children, to her niece and nephew. She was very relaxed and he wished she was less stressed more often, not that he was going to change his tactics for solving crimes at work. She looked over at him then and gave him a preemptive warning look, which he countered with an innocent shrug. What was that warning look for? _He_ was the mind reader in this relationship. She couldn't have possibly noticed that he had thrown away the old box in her bedside table, replacing it with a new one. If she had, she would probably have said something earlier, or come downstairs mortified, or even pretended not to notice, but then blush every time she looked over at him for a while. He wasn't hoping for anything tonight, or even this week, he just wanted to be prepared.

Teresa was talking to Michael again, having had a brief conversation with his wife after saying good bye to Terry. She looked up, a slightly quizzical expression, "Mikey wants to talk to you."

"Oh?" Patrick said, taking the phone. He had a feeling he was going to get the big brother talk. Yup, confirmed as now Teresa was leaving the table, turning on the television and sitting on the couch. Mikey must have asked her to do so.

"_Hey Patrick,"_ came the deceptively easygoing voice, Jane decided to play along.

"Hi Michael, sounds like everyone is doing fine on your end," he greeted.

"_Yah, listen, sorry about getting you into hot water with Tessa last weekend,"_ the firefighter truly sounded contrite.

"Eh, I survived, I always do," he replied, twisting in his chair to glance over at Teresa.

Michael sort of snorted, sort of chuckled and then, Jane knew, he was getting to business, _"Look Patrick, I know Teresa likes you, I like you, I might even be able to speak for Kev and John-John and say it isn't much of a stretch to say that they like you too, or at least respect you."_

"And I like all of you as well. As fuzzy as all this is, please get to the point, I think Teresa is burning with curiosity," Jane said straightforwardly.

"_Well, what I'm trying to get at is that… You're committed to her right?"_

"That's something we've discussed," Jane hedged, not sure exactly what to say, looks like Michael was about to give him the green light. He was glad he was an only child, he wouldn't know how he'd feel if he had brothers or sisters telling Teresa to catch him. Actually, now that he thought about it he might like to have that kind of cheering section.

"_Discussed as in-?"_

"Yes, I'm committed to her," Jane spelled out quietly, checking to see if Teresa could overhear the conversation. No, doesn't look like it.

"_You think you can get her to marry you soon?"_

Knowing what was coming is one thing, but for it to actually be verbalized was still a bit surprising. Jane sat quietly, the phone held to his ear.

"_Hey, you still there?"_ Michael asked, wondering if the connection cut out.

"Yes, still here," Jane answered, again glancing back to check on Teresa. His gaze met with hers as she gave him a questioning look. He smiled at her and turned back to face the kitchen.

"_So what do you say? Even before I found out about you guys officially, I noticed she sounded happier on the phone the last couple months after I saw you both in the hospital. I knew something had to be going on. I could just tell with how she spoke. I don't know if she's ever told you-"_

"Stop right there," Jane interrupted, a wry grin in place, "You're not about to get me into trouble again are you?"

"_No, nothing like that. I just know that her job has been everything to her since she's had nothing else, this wasn't exactly the life she dreamed of you know? Yah, she's busted her ass and became an agent, she's done great, and we're happy for her, but I know, growing up, that before Mom died, Tessa had always dreamed of getting married, having like ten kids-"_

Jane gave a small cough, "Thank you for your vote of confidence, but I'm not sure I have the energy for that many."

He heard a hearty laugh on the line, smiling a bit himself.

"_You know what I mean. She's not that young anymore and she knows it. I think half the time she tells us she can't make it home is because seeing me and John-John with a family makes her feel depressed. You're her last shot if it's goin' to happen and it's gotta happen soon."_

It was still shocking to hear. Was it normal for a woman's younger brother to persuade her partner to get married quickly and have kids? Was it some sort of left over tradition that the family didn't feel fulfilled until the daughter was married off with children? Some fear of spinsterhood for his sister…

"_Don't mess this up. Tessa deserves a lot of things that we can't give her, but I think you can come close."_

"I'll keep that in mind, nice talking to you," Jane said, wishing Michael well and hanging up.

"What did you guys talk about?" Lisbon asked, after he set her phone down on the table.

"Oh you know, man stuff," Jane answered vaguely on purpose just to see her scrunch up her face slightly in irritation.

Jane walked across the room to take a seat next to her on the couch. She turned to face him.

"Seriously, what was that all about?"

He turned his head to her and asked, "What if I told you your dear brother is telling me to marry you?"

Lisbon stared at him then furrowed her eyebrows, "Be serious. Fine, don't tell me."

She pointedly turned back to face the television while Jane looked on, amused.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Notes:** Chapter 12's slow update was due to my inability to load it onto the website. I don't know if it was my file, or ff . net's server, but I wasn't able to load for hours and had to wait a couple days, that's why it took a while.

Thank you yaba and thanks to the reviewers! lisbon69, yaba, Simonisthecuttestmentalist, mwalter1, Ebony10 (Hey, I just provide, I'm not shoving this story down your throat, if it happens to have addictive qualities that's your problem ;-P lol!), xxxBekaForEvaxxx, Hikaru Ceres (Yes, very weird and possibly creepy for Mikey to ask Jane to marry his sister when they've only been dating for a couple months, but then again Lisbon and Jane have known each other more than a year or two in this story so… that's Mikey's excuse…), MK (The manual labor thing, I know that Simon Baker was in a movie where he's like a construction worker, ummm, landscaper? Anyway, home building/decorating related work and it makes me wonder…)

Please read and review! YAY!

**Chapter 13**

Coming into the new week, wall completely fixed, Jane and Lisbon had come to an unspoken agreement that he was welcome to move into her home. They still drove to work in separate cars to keep up appearances though. Jane also had come to the realization that Lisbon liked to sleep touching him in some way, either with her head resting on him (his chest or shoulder) or at least an arm thrown over him. With that, he also understood that it wasn't fully for the comfort of hearing his heartbeat as he had originally thought, but to somehow keep track of him, making sure he was still there. He was certain it was a subconscious desire to do so and not because she actually thought he would leave her alone; she generally wasn't "cuddly".

Monday, he had brought home one of the suits he kept in his desk drawer, hanging it in Lisbon's bedroom closet with satisfaction.

"Don't you have any casual clothes?" she asked, staring at the lone suit set. She had cleared out some closet space for him, as well as part of a drawer for underclothes and shirts.

"These are my casual clothes," he deadpanned, "The beauty is that people think they look office professional."

Lisbon tilted her head towards him, raising an eyebrow, an "are you kidding me?" look firmly in place. Then her features smoothed, "I guess I should be surprised you even own P.J.s."

Jane smiled down at her, only sunlight from the window lighting the room. In the natural light, he found she looked her best. It accentuated her best features, giving her skin a soft glow, red highlights distinct in her hair and the pale green of her eyes shining and warm.

Lisbon cleared her throat as she looked away, the prolonged eye contact making her self-conscious. She still wasn't used Patrick's comparatively amorous actions and advances, admittedly rather conservative when compared with what could be seen every day out on the streets.

Jane's informal moving in consisted of his one suit now hanging in Lisbon's closet, toothbrush and shaving kit in the bathroom, and some clean underwear in the designated drawer space (which caused some blushing on Lisbon's part). Jane knew he was the first man to ever move in (however informally) with her.

Lisbon found his few belongings now in her home to be a comforting presence, but the scarcity of said items somewhat reminded her of their owner. Like him, seemed to take up little room (such as living on a couch) but was a huge presence if she let them be.

"Ice cream?"

"Huh?" Lisbon articulated.

He grinned at her, "I knew that would catch your attention."

She pressed her lips in a firm line and gave his arm a swat with the back of her hand.

"Ouch," Jane groaned as she left the bedroom, heading downstairs, "Hey, how do you feel about going out tonight?"

Lisbon was at the bottom of the stairs and looked up as he walked down, "Going out as in shopping?"

He shook his head, waving a hand in front of him, towering over her by one step, "No, going out as in let's enjoy a meal at a restaurant."

"Patrick," she sighed, walking again, now to the kitchen, "you know we can't."

"Nonsense," he said lightly, "no regulations about two colleagues being together after hours, you and Grace go out almost every week."

"That's different, as you well know," Teresa gave him a slightly hopeless, slightly frustrated look.

"How is it different?" he asked just to be difficult.

"Grace and I aren't… lovers," she bit out, saying it just to prove she can. He smiled at her.

"Oh how those words serenade my heart, I was starting to get jealous," he said humorously, coming over and wrapping his arms around her because he could. He leaned her back lightly against the kitchen counter, trapping her. She looked up at him in confusion, caused by what he was doing more than his words. Their hips pressed against each other, she had leaned back trying to see him, his warmth encircling her. He didn't move, but for once she didn't feel the need to remove herself from the sensation, leaning forward and wrapping her own arms around his neck. She actually did feel the loss of not having the kind of relationship, which she didn't need to hide from her superiors. So many freedoms stripped as long as they wanted to work in the same unit. They couldn't live like this forever, but they were holding on as long as they could. Sooner or later something would happen, someone would find out who would have to take some official action against them.

Really the worst case scenario would be that there would be a reprimand, she could possibly be suspended and he would be reassigned to another team… well, maybe it could be worse than that, but she believed that she was (not boasting at all, just facts) not that expendable. She was a hard worker, had a high- no, the best, case closing rate even before Jane had joined them, they couldn't afford to fire her. Then there was Jane… he was great for solving cases, the only bad news was that no one could handle him, and as he was only a consultant (a very valuable one at that) and with no guarantees that he would work well with other units, he might face being let go. Lisbon often worried about that.

Jane noticed that her at first relaxed hold had become tighter, trying to comfort herself. He didn't exactly know what was going on, but he had a feeling it was an old worry involving him. Using his deductive skills, he surmised it had to do with their relationship. He held her tighter to himself for a moment before running a soothing hand up and down her back. She abruptly let go of her hold, "Sorry."

"What did I do this time?" Jane asked knowingly.

She tried to laugh, but wasn't successful and instead tried to push away from him, escaping the kitchen.

"I just keep thinking of what will happen when people find out about us," she finally said, back turned to him as she fingered the back of a chair at the dining table.

"You know the team knows-"

"No, they only suspect," Lisbon corrected. Although it was a diminishing chance, it was her hope, rather, that they were at most suspecting the relationship and really she hoped they were quite ignorant. She was in denial, but as long as no one said anything, nothing could be confirmed.

"Tell you what, I'll call for pizza and you choose out a DVD to pop in. We should go shop tomorrow, we didn't really get much fresh food Friday, just a lot of frozen stuff," Jane suggested, changing tactics to try and cheer up Lisbon from her depressing mood. She agreed and walked off to the bookshelves, looking at her collection of videos.

As Jane looked for a pizza place to call in the phone book, Lisbon picked out a movie, placing the disk into the player, but leaving it turned off to wait for the pizza to arrive, or so Jane presumed. She left the room, climbing the stairs to change out of her work clothes.

After having ordered the pizza, Jane went to Lisbon's bookshelf, looking at her books. He had found it so very amusing when he found the many self-help books she had, mostly about taking on leadership roles. She was a natural alpha, so he thought, but perhaps she read them for the finer points of working relationships with other people, professional relationships. He picked one up, "Developing the Leader Within You" it read across the top. Very direct.

Lisbon had changed into comfortable clothes and came down the stairs and was alerted to the silence, not always a good sign where Jane was involved… well, okay, he didn't really cause trouble when they were home, it was just her developed suspicious nature taking over. Not that he helped any when at work, she was just lucky to have a hassle free Monday, only working on wrapping up reports for the Dunlop case.

She spotted Jane on the couch, a book in his hands. Curiosity piqued, she walked over to him.

"What are you reading? Is that one of my books?" she asked, putting hand out to turn the cover towards her.

" 'Developing the Leader Within You'? Seriously Teresa, you need to pick up some more interesting reading material," Jane teased, releasing the book to her. Her face pinched slightly as she took the book from him indignantly.

"I take my job seriously, these books help. I didn't just wake up one day and became a senior agent with my own unit to lead, I had to learn how to be an effective leader," she defended, taking the book back to the shelf.

"You're a natural, you shouldn't really worry about it. Besides, I think you've groomed the team quite nicely. You're clearly the alpha wolf of that pack, but again, I think a nice romance novel set in the Wild West would do you good. 'Teresa Oakley' just has a nice ring to it," Jane said, arms resting along the back of the couch, "it's about a woman from the east who moved into a little cowboy town and was carried off by a noble outlaw…"

Lisbon gave him a disbelieving smile and laughed, "More like you're getting carried away, oh Mr. Noble Outlaw."

"So you figured out my secret identity, don't let the sheriff know, he's still sore about the cattle I stole from his ranch," Jane joked, patting the seat cushion next to him.

"You are so full of it, how do you ever survive among us normal people?" she asked, rolling her eyes as she sat next to him, his arm coming down to wrap around her shoulders, resting her head against him.

"Who said anything about normal people?"

"Hey!" Lisbon sat up, giving him a light whack, her lips quirked to the side. Jane pulled her back to her previous position and she complied.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with having a good romance novel, or a trashy one, like the one you have hidden under the mattress," he said conversationally. Immediately, he felt her tense against him.

"I-I do not!" she denied, but the dark blush said it all. He loved how easy she made it to tease her, to rile her up. He bent down to kiss her lips, she tried to pull back in indignation, but gave in, wrapping her arms around him, his own arms dragging her closer. It was then the doorbell rang and he sighed against her and pulled away, she was still blushing, though not as heavily. She was likely wondering if he actually had found her book under the mattress or if it was just a good guess on his part.

Jane brought back forks and plates along with the pizza and salad he ordered. They prepared to eat and watch the movie. He was curious to see what movie she picked.

It was black and white, starring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Jane thought it looked familiar then saw the title, "Roman Holiday". He glanced over at Lisbon, but she seemed engrossed in her salad and watching. If he didn't know any better he'd think she was trying to send him a message, a message he didn't like. They didn't speak throughout the film. It was at the end, Lisbon inconspicuously wiping her eyes in the dark room, once again at Jane's side, his arm thrown over her shoulders. When the ending credits started rolling he turned to her and finally spoke, "This better not be a message."

"What? I just felt like watching something with Audrey Hepburn in it," she said.

"You're not Ann and I'm not Joe, we're staying together because it'd be ridiculous not to," he stated in a "and that's that!" voice.

"You're being silly," Lisbon said, then snuggled down into his chest, resting a hand on his stomach.

"Well, I'd rather be silly than not making sure you know the facts," he grumbled, she found it reassuring and adorable. Okay, so maybe she unintentionally chose the film after having the thoughts of possible separation at work, what with her anxiety over others finding out about their relationship. Not that she would admit it. She really was her own worst enemy.

Jane lowered his arm, wrapping it around her side, faintly bruised fingers stretching out over Lisbon's stomach.

"What are you doing?" she quietly asked, it was like she was being felt up, but not her hip or chest.

"Enjoying you," he simply stated, "Does it bother you?"

"I- no, I guess not…" she hesitated, "Have I told you how weird you are?"

He laughed then ran his hand up her side, tickling her. Her body seized as she pushed away from him, he pinned her to the couch, now both hands attacking her sides, merciless.

"Jane! Stop!" she almost shrieked, futilely trying to hold in her laughter as she curled up, trying to fight back.

"Call me Patrick first," he demanded, not letting up any, dodging once in a while as her hands shot up. He had the advantage of longer arms.

"I'm gonna… kick you," she said between gasps.

He smiled down at her, "I hear words, but I don't hear my name."

"Dumbass!" she laughed.

"Oh, so that's how you're going to play is it? Looks like someone doesn't want me to stop!"

Her abdomen hurting, a stitch in her side; oxygen depleted, she finally gave in, trying to stop his hands, grabbing at them, "Okay okay! I give! Patrick!"

He finally stopped, almost winded himself. She was still gasping in his arms, holding them still, a laugh now and then coming out with a pant for breath, "You are… such an idiot!"

He was smiling down, leaning over her. It didn't take long for her to take note of their intimate position. Her shirt had ridden up under his attack and she saw him look down at the revealed pale flesh. She watched him as he almost reverently touched her exposed side with his left hand, resting his weight on the right. Her skin flinched where he touched her, still heaving. He slowly traced up her abdomen, mesmerized by her skin, the only light coming from the television screen. He noticed a faint line, very thin and pale, seemed to be smoother than the rest of her skin, off to the side of her bellybutton.

Teresa squirmed, becoming uncomfortable, and grabbed his hand, "Patrick, don't," she almost sounded like she was pleading.

He glanced up at her, her eyes looking to the side, avoiding his. She sensed him move then felt his lips on her scar. Lisbon shivered, but then lowered her shirt, trying to sit up, pushing Jane up as she did so. He tried to pull her into him, but she kept a hand on his chest then got up from the couch, collecting their plates and turning on the lights.

Jane watched Lisbon quietly as she washed the dishes to avoid him. She was definitely a lights out woman, mostly because she didn't like her scars, probably thought men didn't want to see her scars. He felt it was a testament to the survivor in her, the tough woman who raised her brothers, was a cop, and now an agent for the CBI. He hadn't seen her bullet wound since the hospital and wondered how that had healed up as well. He wouldn't find out today, she would be extra skittish tonight, but someday…

***

That night Teresa didn't kick him out of bed, but she lay on her side, facing away from him and tense. The curtains had been drawn, the lights turned off.

Patrick lay silently, alternately staring at the dark ceiling and at the back of her head. He had waited for her to come to him, wrap herself around him as she had the previous weekend. He had been waiting for the last half hour and she was still tense, not saying anything but a short "Good night".

"Teresa, come here," he gently whispered. She didn't move and if anything seemed to stiffen more. He sighed into the silence and waited a moment before making his move. She wouldn't come to him so he would go to her. He scooted across what felt like a vast expanse, but was only a foot. She seemed to curl into herself, so he turned on his side to face her back and slipped his right arm under her, pulling her back against him. She didn't struggle, but acquiesced. She just didn't know how to respond to him after pushing him away in the living room.

She heard him inhale through his nose, which was buried in her hair, then he brushed away the dark strands from her neck, replacing them with a kiss. His arms were wrapped around her securely and she let herself relax, not knowing what to do. She placed her hands over the backs of his and started stroking his arms through the sleeves in an act of contrition, not able to say the words.

He rubbed his thumb over her hip lightly.

"Why do you stay with me?"

Her voice, though barely above a whisper, was startling in the quiet of the bedroom in its suddenness.

"Why do you let me?" he countered, just as quietly. They made quite a pair, both feeling undeserving of the other, the difference being that Patrick knew he didn't deserve her and acknowledged his greed in having her. He knew he made her happy and she deserved to be happy, even if he didn't deserve it himself. It just happened to work out in his favor.

She turned in his arms, tucking her head under his chin, pressing her nose into his comforting scent, putting her arms around his waist and said, "I love you Patrick."

"I love you too Teresa," he replied, speaking into the top of her head. He started humming softly, a lullaby he used to sing to his daughter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Notes:** A somewhat longish chapter. Thank you yaba for your tireless efforts!

Thank you reviewers for leaving me a note: lisbon69 (Ah yes, I haven't seen the movie before, but saw the trailer. The guy looks good in work clothes lol!), shopping-luva91 (You may need to wait a couple of chapters to answer that question…), jamielouise (Thanks for leaving a comment! Glad you liked my stories!), Simonisthecuttestmentalist, mwalter1 , The Lonely Fox, Ebony10 (I am very gratified by the use of "poignant" in reference to my writing!), Penelope charmosa (Thanks!), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Not at all! And yes, you might see another reference to it in the future…), Hikaru Ceres (Thank you very much!)

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**Chapter 14**

Tuesday started out normal enough, with the exception that Jane now was tentatively living with Lisbon. He had mentioned something about conserving water rather slyly to which she rolled her eyes and responded that he could just not take a shower. Besides, he had no offering of coffee and it was difficult enough trying to survive the morning drive to get to the office and the break room sludge.

He was summarily locked out of the bathroom.

Lisbon arrived at the office first; no one from her team had yet arrived. She checked her watch, _'Hm, made pretty good time today,'_ she thought, despite now waking up next to someone in bed. She wondered what he was doing; he could theoretically arrive earlier than her with how he usually drove if they left at the same time.

She slid into work mode, hanging her dark blazer on the coat tree and settled into her office chair. Her desk phone rang and she picked it up, answering.

"_I know."_

Lisbon sat frozen, chilled by the simple words and the abrupt hang up right after them. The handset was still held to her ear, hearing nothing but beeping. She set the phone down slowly, her stomach churning. Who was that? It was definitely a man's voice, but in the suddenness of it, she could not identify it. Was it a threat? It wouldn't be the first time she received a threat by mail or phone; it was an inevitability that all law enforcement officers faced after a period of time, especially with all the arrests she had made in her career. The fact that the words used were "I know" was more disturbing than an outright threat against her life. What did they know? What were they going to do with what they knew? Who was it? She blanched, feeling sick, her lips cold. Was it Red John? Did he know about her and Jane?

Lisbon tried to calm her mounting panic, swallowing against the rising bile, heart trying to burst up her throat. No, it wasn't his style, right? He left notes for Jane to find, or directed at Jane to taunt him, he didn't make personal phone calls. Right?

She wasn't naïve, she had thought of the possible implications of being with Jane, was certain he had thought it through. The serial killer knew when the case had been taken away from Lisbon's team, had "returned" it to them by killing Bosco and his team. He had his inside sources, so whether or not they developed this sort of relationship, Red John clearly showed and probably reveled in the fact that he had easy access to them all. They couldn't think too much on that and let it rule their lives, always looking over their shoulders, because nothing could change that the killer was out there, toying with them. The reality was that he could stay out there for years, possibly never to be caught, but life went on, it had to.

Lisbon was shaken out of her catatonic state when her door swung open, a cup of coffee came in, followed by Jane's smiling face. His smile fell almost immediately upon observing Lisbon and he quietly closed the door behind him, "What's wrong?"

Her eyes flicked up at him, his concerned eyes searching, she then glanced down at the cup in his hand just to look elsewhere, to think.

"It's nothing," she said instinctively.

"It certainly is not 'nothing'. Something happened," he insisted, then glanced at her phone, "Someone called and said something? Don't lie, your eyes were dancing around the phone."

"Don't worry, it was probably nothing," she said, trying to sound her usual self, recovering a bit from her ill feelings.

"Teresa, you don't always have to do everything by yourself, let me help," he continued, having placed the coffee on her desk, approaching her.

"Stop right there," she said sharply, looking pointedly to the partially open blinds of her office. Stepping more into her role of authority, a shield of sorts against tumultuous feelings, she said, "It's not your concern, I'll log it like usual and someone else will take care of it. Nothing for any of us to handle."

Jane made a dissatisfied noise, but couldn't really say anything to that. Then a question presented itself, "Do you get many threats?"

"At least one every few months during a good year," she said matter-of-factly, as if it was a normal occurrence; she was actually playing it down. She received at least a threat or two every month, usually in paper form, not something he needed to know though. Most threats were benign and had been dealt with by other officers. Though, by the way the consultant was looking at her she knew he saw straight through the white lie meant to reassure him.

"Fine."

His mouth was pressed together in aggravation and he threw up his hands, leaving her office and making his way to his couch, sitting on it and swinging his legs up, immediately crossing his arms tightly over his chest and closing his eyes facing the back of the couch. Lisbon sighed. It looked like it would be a long day.

***

"JANE! What the hell was that?!"

Lisbon was tromping after her wayward consultant after he had verbally assaulted the grieving mother of a murder victim. The victim was a thirty-six-year-old man who lived in his mother's basement, spending most of his days on the computer or at the local comic book shops that hosted tabletop war games. He was found dead in the woods.

Through the course of the interview with the victim's mother at her home, Jane had become increasingly irritated, finally going off on the mother, asking how she could indulge her son so much. He accused her of heaping the guilt of her failed marriage on her son, feeding him enough trash to cause his obesity, and facilitate his slothful lifestyle, greedily keeping him as a child forever who stayed dependent on her, not allowing him to grow up and move out. In essence, allowing her son to become a failure.

Lisbon had tried to stop his needling accusations which had caused the older woman to wail and scream. Jane had turned and left after saying all that he had wanted, Lisbon hot on his heels after apologizing for his behavior, not that it mattered. She was already feeling a headache rising to the fore, anticipating calls from the woman's lawyer, Public Relations, possibly even the District Attorney.

The senior agent chased down Jane at the sidewalk, grabbing his arm and roughly turned him around; he shook her off, but didn't walk away. His hands were firmly in his pockets and he gazed off to the side, squinting in the bright sunlight.

"Jane, regardless of how you feel about that woman's lifestyle choices she is nonetheless a grieving mother who had just lost her only child. You _cannot_ speak so callously, you need to be more sensitive, or at least keep your mouth shut!" she reprimanded, her own arms crossed against her chest.

She seemed to be waiting for something, some acknowledgment that he got the message that he understood and wouldn't do it again (even if she knew it was likely to happen again in the future). He finally faced her, his icy gaze almost causing her to take a step back.

"I'm tired of all the time so many people waste," he finally said. Jane pulled a hand out of his pocket to point an accusing finger at her, "and why won't you tell me what happened? Anyone threatening you is damn well my business."

She was startled by his words; this was a side of him she rarely saw. Intense and angry. It was often easy to forget that the same man who smiled everyday at everyone, who slept on the couch through informal meetings, who brought coffee and donuts for the team, was also the same man who had so coolly told her how he was going to end Red John's life as he did with his wife and child. This wasn't about them though, it was about his unprofessional attitude, which yes, may be linked with what happened this morning, but shouldn't be and he had taken it out on an old woman.

"Jane, I need to you apologize to that poor woman for your inexcusable behavior. It wasn't fair to her," Lisbon firmly told him. She held his gaze steadily in a stare down that even Cho would have felt uncomfortable in. She began to fear that he wouldn't back down when he finally blinked, something in his stance changed; it wasn't exactly that he had relaxed, but something, a shift, had occurred. His face was blank; his eyes no longer cold, but not warm either.

"Fine," he said, walking past her, back up to the house. She was beginning to hate that word.

***

When they got back to CBI headquarters, the rest of the team knew it. Lisbon had just stormed past everyone and straight to her office, just stopping from slamming the door since it and the surrounding walls were made of glass, but there was still the swishing banging of the blinds from the abrupt movement. The team then spotted Jane seemingly strolling in.

Rigsby couldn't help himself, "What did you do this time?"

Jane ignored him and went to his couch, laying down on it and closing his eyes. Rigsby traded meaningful glances with Cho and Van Pelt. One didn't often witness a comment less Jane after the advent of a storming Lisbon. This was bad.

Lisbon was slamming things around in her office; she was seething. She had thought Jane had gone back in to apologize, but instead she had found him hypnotizing the woman, suppressing her memories of the incident, or at least confusing the woman as to their presence. By that point Lisbon just blew her top, excusing them and hauling Jane to the car. She had briefly contemplated leaving him there to call a taxi back, but didn't want to risk that he would do something else to the woman when left to his own devices.

She was so angry she couldn't say anything to him and just drove back to the office, hearing only the buzzing in her ears, the pounding of blood in her head, a migraine forcing its way, no longer simply impending. She just didn't know what to say to him, had given up on saying anything. Nothing she said would change what happened, nothing she said would likely change his behavior in the future. She needed to cool off before she broke something. If only he would look the slightest bit repentant.

Lisbon finally slumped at her desk, pulling open a drawer and digging out her migraine medicine. After swallowing the pills, she just rested her forehead against her hands then tried massaging her temples.

What did she see in that man? She knew she needed to cool off so that she wouldn't make any rash decisions. If only her boyfriend at home and the consultant at the office were two different people, she could gripe about him and let the boyfriend try to soothe her. No such luck, another reason why she had originally objected to office relationships aside from regulation books. Where did the office end and home begin?

There was no way she could actually try to leave "baggage" at the door when she went home, especially when that "baggage" was now living with her. The only other men that could help soothe her currently was in the form of a tub of ice cream in her freezer, just begging for her to go at it with a spoon, that or a bottle of wine. Maybe both. She could annex her living room for "girls only" and wine and dine by herself in front of the TV. That was only wishful thinking she was sure, but she could try.

The day was only half way over, it was just dragging on, though she wished it would end already. The migraine wasn't going away.

There was a soft rapping at her door, the sound sending spikes of pain through her forehead.

"Come in," she called out, bracing herself for more painful noise.

"Boss?" it was Van Pelt, "We have a lead."

Lisbon held in a sigh, fingers still pressed against her head, she looked up, "Okay, give me a moment, I'll be out there in a couple minutes."

"Are you okay?" Grace asked, no longer the subordinate, but a friend. The younger woman's eyes held the concern she had been feeling since Jane and Lisbon returned from questioning the mother.

Teresa finally let out the sigh she had been holding, "Thanks, I'll be fine. Just need a moment."

Grace nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile, "Okay, we'll be out there."

The door quietly clicked shut. Lisbon took a moment to collect herself and assess the pain in her head. She felt that there was a slight difference already, took a slow breath in and exhaled just as slowly. She needed to get back to work whether or not the headache remained.

***

Lisbon finally arrived home, and after spotting Jane's Citroën parked out by the sidewalk had a fleeting fancy of driving away. Despite the medicine she took, the migraine had remained, if not as prominently as before. She caught Jane shooting her concerned looks throughout the afternoon, annoying her. If he got so worried about her headaches why didn't he stop and think? Stop, think, and respect the proper way to do things. Didn't he realize that half her headaches at work were caused by him?

She slowly made her way to the door, bracing herself. If she and Jane could just ignore each other this evening, that'd be fine by her. She took a breath and unlocked the door.

Stepping through the doorway, she immediately noticed Jane preparing dinner in the kitchen. He looked at her with a small smile, her ridiculous apron on him, chopping vegetables. She closed the door and set her keys, gun, and badge on the table. Wordlessly she headed upstairs. She just wanted to take a long bath and go to sleep, erase this whole day and her headache.

In the bedroom, she noticed that her sleepwear was folded and on the bed. She pulled off her blazer and hung it in the closet before picking up the folded clothes. When she opened the bathroom, steam escaped and she noticed a towel set out on the bathroom counter and candles lighting the room. She could smell the soothing bath salts in the air. The bathtub was full of hot water. She almost wanted to weep. One would think it was because she was touched, but in it was a sense of deep frustration. Did he think preparing a bath, making dinner, absolved him? He always tried to patch things up after he had pissed her off. Yes, a hassle free night is what she needed, but she wouldn't have needed it if he had just stopped and thought of her welfare before the whole debacle.

It was relatively easy to clear her mind once she started her bath, the dim candle lighting, no sounds but the lapping water, the clean, warm scents of bath salts. It was all soothing. She didn't leave until her fingers and toes had pruned with the water turning tepid. She hadn't forgiven Jane yet, but most of her migraine had been soothed away. Now the time came for some sleep to eradicate it.

***

Jane sat at the table, spaghetti growing cold on their place setting for Lisbon and him. It was way past time that she should have finished her bath. He had heard doors opening and closing. Maybe she went straight to bed just to avoid him. He knew she had been experiencing a migraine that day, he hadn't particularly helped with that, but he had hoped she would talk to him.

He left the table and walked slowly up the stairs and to the bedroom. He could tell the lights were out, the bathroom door was open and dark as well. He pushed open the door, the curtains had been drawn, though sunlight still gave the room dim light. Teresa was on her side of the bed, hair slightly damp and strewn across her pillow. Patrick made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge in front of Teresa, who was laying on her side. The mattress dipped down with his weight and he watched her face, eyes were closed.

"Teresa, I know you're awake. Aren't you hungry?"

Silence reigned in the room. She was clearly trying to ignore him and kept up her façade of sleeping.

"I know you're mad at me," he said, speaking to her with a small smile. There have been previous times she had been angry with him, before they had a formal relationship beyond that of consultant and supervising agent, and at her angriest she had stayed that way for days, usually ignoring, (or tried to), leaving him at the office when a case or lead came their way (again, tried to), and with little things like paper frogs and donuts he had extracted a smile from her, even if it wasn't full forgiveness. She had stayed angry at him for up to four days before finally giving in, letting it slide.

Today, though, he was concerned for her because of whatever call she had received that morning. She had still been a bit pale when he had arrived with her coffee. Knowing there was a threat against her did not settle well with him at all. If she had at least shared it with him why this one of several threats was the one to affect her, he would be more pacified.

"Just tell me about the threat you got on the phone this morning," he said, no longer able to hold it in anymore.

" 'I know'."

" 'I know' what?" asked Patrick, leaning in, seeing Teresa was staring ahead.

"That's it. It was all he said and it worries me," she explained.

"Why don't you come downstairs and eat something before you sleep," he urged, placing a hand on her side.

Teresa moved away, finally looking at him, "I'm still mad at you and I just want to sleep off this headache. You can eat by yourself."

With that she turned her back to him and closed her eyes, waiting for him to leave. He was very still for a long moment, but he did slowly stand up. She could almost feel the shadow fall over her before feeling Patrick kiss the side of her head. She heard his footsteps leave the bed, the door lightly swishing over the carpet and it closing, his footsteps creaking down the stairs and fading away.

***

Eating by yourself when the person you were living with was present in the same house, mad at you, wasn't a very nice thing to experience. It had happened before with Lisbon a couple times the past few months, and it had happened before when he had been married, but each and every time he never got used to it and he always lost most of his appetite. Food always was cold and always tasted subpar. He almost ate half of his plate, pushing much of the pasta around, then sighed. He covered both plates and placed them in the fridge. No use wasting food.

So it was a man (or possibly a woman with a voice modifier?) who had threatened Lisbon with only the words "I know". Very vague. She must have wondered if it was Red John, safe to assume with how entrenched they were in his case from Jane's family tragedy, Hardy, to Bosco and his team with Rebecca, from within. But he felt it wasn't Red John's style. He would likely have taunted them with a message, an untraceable e-mail or a note encoded in a riddle, boasting of his superiority, maybe even directly threatening Jane to take Lisbon away.

So who else could it be? He needed more information. Maybe he could get Grace to track Teresa's incoming phone calls. He could never be too protective of his loved ones.

He had called a surprised Van Pelt and asked her for phone records of calls made to Lisbon's office that morning. The young woman had been confused and then more than hesitant. He assured her it was for the safety of Lisbon. It didn't take too much to cajole her into agreeing, but she refused to check that night, only promising she would do so first thing tomorrow morning.

Jane wasn't completely satisfied, but she hung up before he could fully note his displeasure. He just muttered to himself after turning off his phone. No longer hungry and having taken care of what he could for now, he was at a loss as to what to do. He had already snooped through Lisbon's many leadership books, found a couple of her romance novels hidden behind a few of the self help books. More would be forthcoming in her bedroom. Normally he would be enjoying Lisbon's company right about now. At least he wanted it to be "normally". In reality, normally, during the weekdays he would be working on the Red John case, looking over his notebook obsessively, making sure he hadn't missed anything though he knew his notes by heart. He would take a look at what Cho was currently reading, go to the darkened kitchen and maybe sample someone else's food left in the fridge, go into Lisbon's office and sit in her chair for a while. Or he would drive around all night, go watch the stars. Sometimes he went to his old house when he ran out of all other options, to sleep briefly before a new day began.

Now he was actually living with Lisbon, not just on the weekends. He looked out. The sun was starting to set, but he could walk around for a bit until it was dark, just for something to do. Maybe he'd become tired. He could always go for a drive.

***

It was nearing one after midnight when Jane arrived back home. He quietly made his way to the bedroom, having stopped to brush his teeth. He was pretty certain he'd be able to lie still in bed now after all the driving he'd been doing, maybe even sleep.

Patrick slowly entered the bedroom, it was almost completely dark, the barest amount of orange light snuck in past the curtains, a street lamp. He quietly changed his clothes and carefully slipped into bed. Teresa was still facing his side of the bed, face in his pillow in fact. He moved in right next to her, laying on his back and turned his head to face her. He frowned when he noticed that his pillow was damp. Just to confirm his theory, he ran gentle fingers across Teresa's sleeping face and felt the traces of dried tears.

He hurt for her and gathered her sleeping body up against his, pulling the covers up and more securely around them, gratified with her instinctive desire to curl into him. He'd like to think that she recognized him in her sleep, though that was likely to be wishful thinking.

Were the tears from a nightmare? He guiltily imagined that the tears were a result of her frustration with him and possibly wondering if he had left her, she may have heard him leave the house. He wouldn't find out until she woke up.

About an hour later, he felt her stirring against his chest and waited. She was probably only half awake, he felt her hand press lightly against his chest as if to confirm that it was indeed Patrick she was laying against and not some phantom man that her sleeping mind had produced. Her right arm snaked around his chest and to his back as she pressed her body against him tighter than the relaxed hold he had on her. It was as if she was trying to occupy the same space as him. He gently rubbed her between her shoulder blades, hoping she would relax and go back to sleep. She did eventually relax and go back to sleep.

It was a good reminder that she really did want him to stay with her. He knew it, she just wouldn't say it.

***

Wednesday morning Teresa awoke feeling warm, completely rested, and headache completely gone. She noticed the firm body she was laying against, her mind in an almost happy haze. Then she remembered the previous day. The threat, Patrick's behavior, her subsequent migraine and frustrated anger, coming home to a prepared bath, hearing him leave and the resulting tears. She vaguely recalled what had seemed dreamlike, but realized it must have actually happened, the remembrance of finding him holding her late in the night.

Teresa indulged herself for a moment; the side of her face pressed into Patrick's chest now, his masculine scent surrounding her. His slow and steady heartbeat and breathing was very relaxing. She knew she had quite a bit of time before the alarm clock went off considering how dark it still was in the bedroom and how early she went to bed.

She carefully pushed back, looking up at Patrick's sleeping face and she knew from experience in the office he was actually awake. She propped herself up on an elbow and stared down at him. Patrick opened one eye cautiously, a small smile curving his lips in the grey darkness, "I was hoping you would ravish me if you thought I was asleep…"

Teresa gave him a hard stare then sighed, lying back down beside him, this time on her back, her head resting on a pillow. She felt his hand find hers, encasing it in his larger palm, bringing the back of her hand to his lips then to his chest, holding it there.

"Still mad at me?"

"Do I need to answer that?"

"Want breakfast in bed?"

Teresa closed her eyes, "Patrick, do you honestly believe that I'll just forget what you did yesterday to that woman just by giving me breakfast? By preparing a bath for a migraine caused in large part by you and your actions? Can't you just not do those things that cause problems in the first place? It would cut my stress down significantly if you just would."

She was certain that he would either remain silent or wave it off. Instead he spoke seriously just as she was preparing to push herself up to get out of bed, "I can't promise to stop my… style of investigation," he worded diplomatically, "but I can promise to try to minimize it whenever I can, but only if you promise to share your problems. I want to know when you receive a threat; I want to be there for you."

"Patrick, even I don't know all the threats I receive, the CBI receives mail everyday threatening people who work there and there are workers who filter them, log them, and evaluate their validity. I think it'd bother you too much if I told you of every one of those that got past them to me. There's nothing you can do about it," Teresa reasoned.

"I still want to know, I want to know what's bothering you," he insisted.

"You bother me," she retorted.

"See? Don't you feel better after telling me that?" he teased, facing her.

"Patrick, this isn't funny. You aggravated then hypnotized a grieving mother; you didn't even have a good reason to, only because you were angry that I didn't tell you anything about the threats. I need you to be a professional," she said sternly.

"And I need you to loosen up," he shot back, trying not to tense up in preparation for the storm he was almost certain would come. He really wasn't trying to make her blow up, but it was what he was good at, on purpose or not. He heard another heavy sigh. It looked like he would survive to live another day. She had yoga tonight with Grace; it would be very beneficial if they didn't have an out of town case today.

The alarm went off and Teresa sat up, leaning over to turn it off. She stayed sitting up a moment, studying the door ahead then turned back to look at Patrick who had partially sat up, leaning back on a hand. Their eyes connected.

"If I promise to tell you about things that really worry me, because if I told you about every little thing neither of us would get any sleep," she provided, halting any protest from him, "I want you to promise to reduce the amount of weekly infractions against the regulations. I know you won't stop, but can you try to bring it down? I don't like listening to and calming down so many angry lawyers, officers, and witnesses as much as you think."

Patrick seemed to consider it and just when Teresa was getting impatient and ready to leave the bed he said, "I'll try."

She nodded and got ready for the day.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Notes:** Thanks yaba!

Thank you reviewers: lisbon69 (Maybe I am toying with you, maybe I'm not, you'll find out when the time is right MWUAHAHAHAHA! ;-P), Simonisthecuttestmentalist, Hikaru Ceres (I'm honored to find out that I'm am your work time distraction lol.), yaba (I like keeping things light where I can. The show itself is pretty light with that dark undertone that shows up once in a while. Weird how I used to only like fluff, no angst, but here I am, working in humor and angst into my stories.), MK (Jane was trying to hypnotize the mother so that she would forget how he had acted towards her pretty much. I think Lisbon is a lonely character who has learned to take care of herself from an early age and to let someone else try to take care of her will cause heartache and possibly lead to disappointment. She has to stay guarded to protect herself and has almost her whole life. Or that's how I figured it must be.), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Yes, a big step forward, no more broken walls and they are still able to occupy the same bed!), mwalter1, Ebony10 (I'm sure Lisbon is still rather… upset… about his behavior, but what can she do? Yes, what can she do? Hmmm *evil thoughts* lol!)

Please read and review, they are very much anticipated, enjoyed, and appreciated! :-D

**Chapter 15**

The team noticed Jane come in a few minutes late, a coffee and a muffin in his hands. Undoubtedly his apology to the boss. They saw her earlier and she seemed to have improved much in her mood since the previous day. The team watched as Jane made his way into Lisbon's office, without knocking, the door closed behind him.

Rigsby was leaning on his desk, craning his neck to see. After a minute he leaned back in his seat. Either Jane was killed immediately or they were talking and the boss had forgiven him… well, perhaps forgive was a strong word, more like she didn't have much choice other than to ignore his indiscretion and futilely warn him not to do it again. Rigsby chewed on some gummy snacks he had found in the break room. He wasn't a kid, but he wanted something to eat and they were available. He was trying to remember who had been responsible for snacks this week when Cho spoke, "They're sleeping together."

Rigsby inhaled a chunk of purple gummy and choked, hacking and coughing hard, Cho looked away from his book to observe, waiting to see if the giant needed real help or not. Van Pelt looked on, partially standing up from her desk. He finally coughed up the chunk then swallowed it; waving away their concerned looks, while taking a sip of his coffee. Rigsby looked over at Cho, who was reading again, the instigator of his choking episode, "Why do you think they're… you know?"

"Just a feeling," the shorter man responded, still reading.

"But he brought her coffee and a muffin to ask for her forgiveness. If they were… wouldn't he have done breakfast in bed or something?" Rigsby whispered, keeping an eye on Lisbon's office door.

Cho shrugged, "Her anger recovery time with him has improved, and the only available explanations are that either she's finally giving up caring, or Jane's had extra time to make it up to her after work."

Van Pelt stared at the two, her mouth in a straight line of disapproval, "Guys, you shouldn't talk about them like that."

Cho looked up at her, "You were thinking it too."

Rigsby looked at both of them, then at Lisbon's office door again, which was opening, Jane walking out with a smile. The large man tried to inconspicuously look at Jane to see if he could spot anything amiss. They couldn't be sleeping together, could they? Jane caught his look and came over, "Some new office gossip?"

"Huh? What, uh, no," Rigsby stuttered, he could practically see Grace smacking her forehead, yah, real smooth Rigsby. Cho smirked.

"Hmmm," Jane hummed, studying the three of them then he snapped up with a shrug and went to his couch.

Grace looked at her computer monitor, her eyebrows coming together. This was not good news. Well, maybe. It all depended on someone's point of view. Jane was the one to ask her to check, but it was Lisbon's business.

"You find something Grace?"

Jane's voice slightly startled her, he was still on his couch, eyes closed, "I think so, but I need to go talk to the boss first."

"Of course," he said lightly and miraculously stayed on his couch… which didn't mean he wouldn't go bug the boss later.

Cho and Rigsby wondered what the exchange was about.

Lisbon called Van Pelt in, who had knocked at her office door.

"Hi Boss," she started.

Lisbon smiled at her, "Hello. Are we still on for yoga tonight?"

"Yes, as long as nothing comes up," the younger agent replied, then her face became serious, "Yesterday Jane asked me to check on something for you…"

"Oh?" Lisbon's eyebrow raised in attention .

"He said you got a phone call yesterday morning from an unknown source?" Van Pelt said carefully.

Lisbon wondered exactly what Jane had told her, "Yes, did you find something?"

"Well, I pulled up yesterday's phone records and it said that the call was from our lobby's payphone."

That was some disturbing news. It meant it was either someone working in the building not wanting the call to be traced to their personal phone, or someone who had no qualms about being so close, and more likely to be a real threat than if the person were to have called from another city, from their own home, or across the city. A person who would call from within the very building she worked in could be dangerous.

"Thank you Grace," she said, obviously meaning to dismiss her from the office, but Van Pelt hesitated.

"May I ask what this is about? Jane mentioned something about your safety. Did you get a threat? You know the team will help out anyway we can," she said earnestly.

"Thanks, but don't worry about it," Lisbon began, but seeing Van Pelt's worried look she added, "but if something comes up I'll be sure to let all of you know."

Van Pelt nodded, she couldn't really change Lisbon's mind on that. She could only accept it for now.

***

"So Mark Bloom was here playing 'War'-?"

" 'Hammer of War' ," the young man corrected, rolling his eyes, clearly unimpressed by Agent Lisbon.

She held in a retort and stretched her patience just a bit more, "Sorry, 'Hammer of War', and he left? Did anyone follow him out? Would anyone want to harm Mr. Bloom?"

Lisbon was questioning the store clerk at one of the comic book stores their victim liked to visit to play tabletop games. The store clerk looked barely out of high school, wore a vest with his name and the store's logo on it. The store was filled with archaic weaponry on the walls, comic books, graphic novels, and DVDs lined the bottom half of the walls, and all sorts of models, figurines (some she questioned whether they should be out in the open without large censor bars on them) and t-shirts set around the floor. Kev and John-John would love this place.

"I didn't _see_ anyone leave out with him. He left early all in a huff because he was arguing with everyone about the rules saying that the area of effect of his mortar grenade bomb was thirty feet, when _everyone_ knows it's twenty-five," the clerk explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He might as well have been speaking another language with the amount Lisbon understood, "We were telling him that a mortar grenade bomb's effect didn't stack with the expanding spell."

Lisbon could only stare blankly, then tried to resume questioning, "Did he argue with people often? With anyone specifically?"

"Yah, he's a total baby. He was always arguing about the rules if they didn't go his way of interpreting them, but I guess he argued the most with Thor, he's the battle master."

" 'Battle master'? Is that like the leader of game?" Lisbon's brain was about to explode, she had no idea what all these terms meant.

"No, not the _leader_," the clerk and his annoying ways were grating on her nerves, "he's the story weaver, the guy who artfully sets up the battle situations and decides what to allow in the game play."

"Are there any other reason's people would want to harm Mr. Bloom?" she continued.

"Well, Mark was a jackass, but the one thing everyone envied was his 'Hammer of War' battalion. He practically had _every_ figure made! He probably spent over a thousand dollars collecting them all and the time he spent to paint each one of them, that's like monumental!" the clerk was clearly impressed and excited just remembering. Jane had finally come from his inspection of the store and its patrons, seeing Lisbon's hopeless face, a huge question mark almost visible.

"I think, what this young man is talking about, are those little pewter figures over there," he pointed out to her. Above the packaged pewter figures were glass encased example sets that were fully painted. Tiny little people and monsters that looked like something from 'Lord of the Rings', fully armed with a variety of weapons including bows, swords, and chains.

"Sooo, players of this game use those figures, which you have to buy piece by piece?" she asked.

"Yah, it can take years to build up a proper battalion and squads," the clerk leaned back against the store counter, arms crossed over his thin chest.

"And there could be people who would want to take these figures from Mr. Bloom?" she carefully asked.

"Well yah, not everyone has that kinda cash to buy all those. I wouldn't be surprised if someone offed Mark to take his collection," he said as if it made all the sense in the world.

Lisbon was really starting the doubt the youth of America if the people in this store were any indication.

"Is Thor here?" she finally asked.

The young man pointed over to one of the back tables where several people were playing games. He was pointing to a very large man, probably weighed as much as two Rigsbys, but as tall as Jane. He had shoulder length unkempt hair, curly beard, and wore a shirt with a picture of a comic book superhero on it. Even from the front of the store she could see white specks of dandruff sprinkling the man's shoulders.

When they approached "Thor", he was in the middle of describing the weather and apparitions in the sky to the five players at his table. The whole table top seemed to be a battlefield in miniature, there were even minor land features placed on it. Jane observed the group interaction while Lisbon went up, flashed her badge, and started questioning Thor and the others. Of the six people, Thor looked the most relaxed… actually "smug" might be a better term. One of the boys looked purely curious with what was going on, Jane crossed him off of his mental suspects list. Two of the others looked frightened, one was nervous and kept shifting his eyes to the box in front of him and to the exit, then back to Thor, Lisbon, and Jane. Hmmm, interesting. Then there was the lone girl in the group who was paying rapt attention to Thor and Lisbon, facing away from the suspect box, not once looking at it. Ah hah.

"You three," Jane indicated to the boys on his mental "not the murder suspect" list, "get out of here. Scoot. The goblins are coming."

The three looked at each other in confusion, then at him, "I'm serious, she'll arrest you for impeding our investigation. Now get out of here and lead productive lives."

The two frightened ones quickly collected their things and practically ran out the door. The curious one now looked very confused, but nonetheless cleaned up his game pieces and left as well.

Lisbon shot him an exasperated look, "Jane! I didn't question them yet."

He smiled at her, "No need to thank me, I just narrowed down our suspect pool which means that much less time spent trying to figure out what they're talking about. You're welcome."

Her mouth hung open slightly then clamped shut, looking at the remaining three. Jane strode over to the boy with the shifty eyes and smoothly slid the box off the table, the boy's eyes widened, "HEY! Be careful with that!"

Jane caught it, seemingly surprised by the weight of it as he hefted it in his hands, "Wow, quite heavy. Mind if I take a look?"

Not waiting for an answer, he opened the box and looked inside. Many tiny painted figures were carefully lining the bottom of the box, as if standing at attention.

"Give it back, you looked at it," the boy whined, trying to take the box from the consultant, but Jane moved out of the way, picking up one of the figures.

"Hey! Don't touch them!"

On the bottom of the figure, in white paint, were the letters "MB".

"You are all under arrest," he said, showing the figure to Lisbon.

The girl finally spoke up, "What do you mean we're all under arrest? Those aren't mine, Carter was the one with the box-"

"Hey! Don't pin this on me! _Both_ of _you_ were the ones who killed him! I only took the box out of his car!" Carter defended hysterically, "I can't go to jail! Mom will kill me!"

"Whoa! Don't move!" Lisbon yelled at Thor who was bolting for the door. Jane got out of the way, jumping to the side to let a human rhinoceros rush past him, Lisbon quickly followed. Jane winced as they crashed into shirt racks and shelves, Lisbon tackling the huge man from behind.

"Hey, Lisbon, you okay?" he called after her from the back of the store.

She didn't appear to be listening as she tried to pull the big man's hands behind him, rattling off the Miranda Rights to Thor.

"OW! You're tearing my arms out of their sockets!" Thor howled.

"Well if you didn't run, we wouldn't have to worry about that would we?" she sarcastically replied with no remorse. She had to practically sit on the man's back as she tried to pull his arms back to cuff him, which was growing apparent it was physically impossible.

"Hey Jane, I could use a little help here. Find something so I can cuff him," she said over her shoulder, then narrowed her eyes at Carter and the girl who seemed to be eyeing the back exit, "and you two! Don't even think about it!"

***

The three suspects were brought into CBI headquarters and were interrogated. Carter was a blubbering mess and they were able to get a full story from him. Thor and the girl, Kara, were more tight-lipped. They could only be held twenty-four hours without incriminating evidence against them, but with Carter's confession all the evidence made sense. Mark Bloom's tantrums were well known among the circle of players, they knew it was only a matter of time before he would stomp out of the store. Kara had left before hand, waiting for him. She was able to convince Mark that she was attracted to him and had him drive to the woods. Thor and Carter came later, Thor had opened the unlocked car door and wrapped a piece of cord around Mark's neck while Carter carefully took the pewter figure collection out of the backseat, taking it to Thor's car. They left Mark's body in the woods while Kara drove his car and parked it at a grocery store to be found by the police.

Fingerprints, DNA, murder weapon, and motive. It was all there. Lisbon and Van Pelt couldn't believe a group of people would kill for toys, but Cho pointed out that the "toys" had monetary value among collectors or other gamers.

"Closed Case Donuts," Rigsby announced, grabbing a jelly donut out of the box he brought.

"As sad and weird as the case was, I'm glad that's over. Good work," Lisbon announced, taking an apple fritter.

"So it looks like we can go to yoga today," Van Pelt said, taking a bite out of her maple bar.

"Looks like," Lisbon smiled.

"I'm so glad that's over with. That's what happens when boys don't join team sports," Rigsby grumbled.

Both women looked over at him, he looked up mid bite, "What?"

"So you're saying boys who are in team sports don't kill people?" Lisbon asked.

"No, I'm just saying boys who are in sports don't kill over figurines," he said, finishing his donut and grabbing another.

"So it's okay to kill over other things?"

"What? No, I'm just saying that guys who are in sports-"

"Forget it man, you're not going to win this," Cho advised, "She's the boss."

The others laughed at this and Lisbon smirked, "Yup, it's good to be boss."

***

Lisbon came home late in the evening. She was totally relaxed and was almost sleepy when she got through the door, wearing yoga pants and tank top, a rolled up mat tucked under one arms and a tote slung over her shoulder. The door opened before she could pull out her keys.

"How was yoga? Had fun?" Jane asked, he had heard her come up the stairs. He opened the door wide for her and closed it when she entered.

"Yah, it was good, I just need to take a shower and go to bed now," she said as she deposited her things on the floor by the door.

"Ah, but not before you eat," he said, guiding her to a chair, "What will it be? Spaghetti or TV dinner?"

She felt a pang of guilt at the mention of spaghetti, she knew it was what he had made for them last night, "I guess I'll eat the spaghetti. I don't want it to get old."

He heated the food up in the microwave for her then placed it in front of her. He had eaten the remains of his pasta earlier, but pulled out some pizza to microwave.

"You know it tastes better cold," Lisbon told him, indicating his pizza slice.

"If it tasted better cold why do pizzerias serve it hot?" he countered, taking a bit of the reheated food.

"I'm just saying, after it's gone cold once it should be eaten that way," she said as if it was a well known fact. Jane chuckled and continued to eat his pizza slowly while observing Lisbon. He preferred to see her in casual clothes, really casual, or just in The Jersey. Actually, he might prefer to see her in no clothes… he had yet to witness such a sight, but he imagined he would love it.

The brunette quirked an eyebrow at him. She was pretty certain that he was mentally undressing her.

"Can you stop that?"

"What?" he asked innocently. He noticed the light flush of her face, which didn't have to do with recent physical activities.

"I know what you're thinking and I want you to not think that anymore," she said, hoping he understood.

"What do you think I'm thinking?" he continued his not so innocent act.

"You're just doing that on purpose, you know what I'm talking about," she huffed, looking down at her plate and taking another bite, deciding to just give up.

"If I stop thinking what I'm thinking, I actually can't really stop thinking," he told her.

"I am so glad no one is here to witness this immature conversation," she breathed, rolling her eyes.

He smiled at her, it turned deviously seductive as he leaned in over his now empty plate, green eyes studying her face, waiting for her to look up, "I'll only think about it again later, when we're in bed, and I've thought about it before several times," he husked.

Jane loved the way her blush spread and became rather blotchy, he noticed that what he could see of her chest in the conservatively cut tank top also blushed in that same blotchy pattern.

"Whatever, go away so I can eat in peace," she looked away embarrassed, but he could see trace amounts of flattery and her own attraction to him, probably not trying to think about him in that way right now and failing now that the idea was in her head.

He got up smiling and kissed her on the cheek before heading to the cushy recliner, turning on the television.

Lisbon finished her dinner and placed her plate and fork in the sink, quickly washing them, dried them and placed them back in the cupboards. She headed up to the bedroom to prepare for a shower. As she stepped into her room a thought emerged, one that caused her to blush again slightly as she made her way to the bedside table. She looked behind her as if expecting Jane to suddenly pop out, but he wasn't there. She opened the drawer and found what she was looking for. She was momentarily confused. Wasn't it a different brand? Her face was burning red as she realized she was holding a brand new, unopened box. She quickly looked behind her again. No Patrick. She looked back down at the box and shoved it back into the bedside drawer. He knew about it! He hadn't said anything about it, didn't hint he knew, didn't tease about her lack of suitors or abundance of… condoms.

Her heart was pounding in her chest when she had realized that Patrick had bought a new box of condoms, she was almost mortified… but was slowly calming down. In a way it was very sweet. He didn't mention it at all. The old box had probably expired and he had replaced it and had not even brought it up. He didn't say anything about changing their current relationship, didn't pressure her into being more intimate with him. Didn't say anything at all. He had to be the most patient man, they had been in the same bed for almost a week and he had done nothing more than cuddle with her… well, there was that one morning he had gotten excited, but then she had pushed him away since she wanted to go running and even then it had seemed more like a make out session and nothing more.

Teresa shook her head to clear it of these thoughts. She needed to take a shower.

***

While Lisbon took her shower Jane got ready for bed. He put his suit on a hanger and placed it in the closet, there were now three suits living in there. Also, he had stopped by a store while Lisbon was away with Van Pelt at their class and bought himself a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was for Lisbon, since she wanted to see him in casual clothes that didn't consist of his suits.

When Lisbon finished her shower she opened the bathroom door, allowing Jane to come in and brush his teeth while she dried her hair. He noticed her shy glances at him and wondered if she was still thinking about their dinner… "conversation". Wait, it was more than that. What was it? He spit the toothpaste out and rinsed his mouth with water. She was still quietly drying her hair and was now avoiding eye contact with him, though it wasn't because she was upset with him. He padded down the hall to the bedroom before her, then his eyes widened slightly as they landed on the bedside table. Of course! He almost smiled in glee. She had found about his purchase and replacement and was currently embarrassed about it.

Teresa came into the bedroom a few minutes later, hair mostly dry. She was dressed in the shorts and shirt she slept in. Patrick had turned on her lamp, so she turned off the main room lights and closed the door, paused just barely long enough to question if she was hesitating, then came to the bed on her side, sliding in under the sheets, snapping off the lamp.

Patrick had put an arm out for her, inviting Teresa to come over and sleep against him. They shared a brief goodnight kiss and then she lay down against him, her head rest on his shoulder, her arm wrapped around his chest, and her leg bent and resting on his hip.

She fully intended not to say anything, to just go to sleep, but the question was bothering her so she finally started speaking quietly, "When did you…?"

"This past weekend when I was fixing the hole."

"Oh."

She remained silent for a long while, then another question formed, "Are you expecting…?" she trailed off.

"Only if and when you're ready," he said just as quietly, he smoothed a hand down her side.

"Thank you."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Notes:** Chapter 15 was pretty fun to write, the case scenario just popped into my head. My friend's dad used to own a store just like that, which is what I modeled it after, also a couple of the characters were vaguely based on a couple friends and acquaintances.

Thank you yaba as always!

Thank you reviewers! Hikaru Ceres (I thought Cho was the perfect person to say such a thing, he would too in that flat voice of his. He's awesome. You know he does it on purpose.), mwalter1 (Hmmm, not sure that'll happen, he'd have to be a lot more saintly, which I don't think is gonna happen. Lol), yaba (Thanks! The case was fun to write, it didn't take long to do, just popped into my head.), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Oh, but they shall always try to hide their thoughts. I don't think anybody wants to be a totally open book. Of course, it's almost totally futile with Jane around.), Simonisthecuttestmentalist, lisbonloafers, MK (The gaming store was fun to write. Yes, the box… well, very soon you shall find out.), Ebony10 (Cho is funny, his one liners just kill me "The best I can do with one call is get a pizza" or something like that. I liked Jane and Lisbon's "stop thinking that" argument too, can't you just imagine them actually having a similar argument?)

**Chapter 16**

A month had passed since the Mark Bloom case and every week was busy. The Friday after the Bloom case, they were called in to investigate a homicide in a community just outside of Oakland. They worked through the weekend and into the next week, finally closing the case on a Saturday. Since the location was about an hour and a half drive from Sacramento, they had to commute every day, or pay hotel fees themselves. It was too near for CBI to comp them.

All the driving back and forth had worn everyone out; it was safe to say that on Sunday everyone would likely spent at home, sleeping in. Jane finally removed the bandages from his hand that weekend.

Case after case involving a lot of traveling, leaving little free time, was fraying on everybody's energy reserves. They were finally given a three day weekend, no interruptions guaranteed by Minelli. He had even commented on the almost noticeable decrease in complaints against Jane. There were still calls from lawyers representing main suspects, but not as many from witnesses and their lawyers. At least Minelli was hoping he wasn't imagining it. He almost wondered if running the team ragged was what caused the phenomena and if it was worth it to tire out Jane enough to lessen complaints? No, he couldn't do that to Teresa and her team, they didn't deserve it. But Minelli still wondered what was causing the change.

Labor Day weekend was coming and there was nothing that would keep the team from enjoying it to its fullest extent. It was a federal holiday and they had been laboring far too much.

It was Friday afternoon and the team had finished their paperwork, even Lisbon was counting down the minutes until their weekend officially began. No, screw it, she had turned in everyone's reports, including hers. They deserved this break like no other.

"Guys, have a good weekend, there is no reason we have to stay in the office any longer," Lisbon announced. Rigsby was out of his chair like from a racing block, there was a chorus of grateful , "Thanks Boss!" as Rigsby and Van Pelt made their way out of the bullpen as if she might change her mind. Cho left slightly more sedately, wishing her a good weekend as well. Only Jane was left in their area, he was leaning against his poorly used desk. He smiled at her, "Yes, thank you so much Lisbon. Now let's get out of here, I'm starved."

Jane convinced her to let them go out to dinner. She only allowed it because it would be at a restaurant away from the city, therefore a very minimal chance of bumping into people they knew.

"Geez, look at this place," Lisbon said, motioning at the crowded restaurant and bar, "we'll probably have to wait an hour to sit down."

"It is a Friday night," Jane responded calmly, studying the crowd, then proceeded forward.

"Hey, let's just go home, I don't want to stand around that long," she called after him, grabbing a hold of his elbow. He looked back at her, a smile forming. He pulled her up behind him and held onto her hand, taking advantage of the crowd she was preoccupied with. She didn't even think to let go. They got to the hostess stand after some weaving through so many people.

Two young women seemed to be conferring with each other, presumably looking down at the list and counting tables. Jane made it to the front and one of them looked up at him a fixed polite smile in place, but after a quick glance at him it became a little more genuine.

"Hi, I'm Patrick Jane, I called a while ago with a reservation for two?" he said, charming smile turned on.

Lisbon looked up at him in surprise. When did he call this place for reservations?

The restaurant was a microbrewery mainly known for its beers and pizza, but it had all sorts of other foods and a relaxed "granola" atmosphere that was quite popular. Or at least that's what Jane told Lisbon, but it seemed true enough. She'd never been to this place before.

"I'm sorry Mr. Jane," the hostess looked truly apologetic, "your table isn't ready yet, everyone has been set back, but it will only be another fifteen to twenty minutes. Perhaps you would like to wait in the bar?"

"Teresa?" he said, looking down at her questioningly, "Can you wait twenty minutes?"

She was almost pressed up against him it was so crowded, "That's fine."

Jane directed his attention back to the hostess, "We'll be waiting in the bar then."

The two found open spots at the bar counter and sat on the stools. They ordered a couple pints of the local brew, each choosing a different type, sharing a sip of the other's drink. They waited for an order of hot wings.

"So you've been here before?" she asked, sipping her beer.

"A couple times," he said, turning in his seat so he was partially facing her.

They were silent for a while, there was enough noise surrounding them to soak in the ambience. Jane was clearly people watching, Lisbon did as well, but she was also watching Jane. She nervously drank her beer.

He leaned in, his eyes elsewhere, a boyish smile on his face, "See over there? That woman is cheating on her husband with that man."

"What?" Lisbon asked, leaning in to align her eyesight with his. She saw a couple who appeared to be in their forties, enjoying a couple drinks together, "How can you tell?"

"Can you see her left hand?"

"So what? She doesn't have a wedding ring, how do you know she's married and cheating on anyone?" she asked doubtfully, taking another sip of her beer.

"Ah, but can you see the indentation of where a wedding ring was?"

Lisbon squinted, "You've gotta be making that up. How can you see that from this distance?"

"I have good eyes," he said loftily.

She looked over at him disbelievingly, "Okay, how about them? What's their life story?" she challenged, pointing over at a younger couple.

"Hm, new parents," he surmised.

"Why?" Lisbon asked, she distractedly noticed she finished her beer and signaled the barkeep for a refill.

"The woman keeps checking her cell phone, likely for the babysitter."

"How do you know it's not a first date gone bad and she's checking for her emergency contact?"

Jane looked at her, then pointed, "Matching wedding rings, married, both have bags under their eyes, the woman has a bit of a… well, her stomach looks slightly stretched out in comparison with the rest of her body. My guess is that it's their first time out without the baby, probably their parents forced them out to give them a break."

Lisbon shook her head, the details he could notice and put together like a simple child's puzzle. Of course, he could be making it up just for the fun of it, not that it mattered, it was entertaining.

After a few more observations about the people around them their hot wings finally arrived, it was then, turned to the slightly better lit bar, that he noticed Lisbon's red tinted cheeks and her almost empty pint glass. They barely finished eating a wing when a hostess found them to take them to a table. Jane then realized that Lisbon had been drinking on an empty stomach.

"So what do you suggest?" she asked him, large plastic menu sheets in front of them.

"They're known for their pizzas, not anything like the food chain versions, really good stuff, but their other foods are good too," he commented.

"Alright, pizza it is," she asserted. There was just something about the way she said it, the tiniest little detail, the barest lengthening of the words, that Jane picked up and he knew she was starting to be affected by the alcohol. He couldn't tell the full extent of the affect, it didn't appear much, but it was enough for him to privately smile to himself in amusement.

They decided on a pizza, another drink being ordered, ale this time, and finished off the wings while they waited. Now Jane was a bit worried, was that her third drink? Is she okay? She's not a very large woman, had finished two pints before the wings came (that he noticed) and was starting in on a third before their pizza came.

"Teresa?" he asked, her eyes wandering over the crowd and the surrounding tables.

"Hm?" she distractedly answered, she turned to face him much too steadily to be natural. It was the movement of someone who was buzzed, but trying very hard to show that they were still in control.

"Are you okay?"

"Yah, I'm fine, why?" she asked, leaning in, eyes attentively open.

"I was just wondering," he backed off, not wanting to ruin the evening by possibly angering her. He just had to get the keys from her so that he could drive them back home. No problem. He hadn't even finished his first (and only) drink.

They talked about their day, Jane informed her of the latest office gossip, an agent in narcotics had been ranting about his missing lunch, or partially eaten lunch.

"Last week's lunch was horrible," he said, rolling his eyes, "I mean bologna? What man eats bologna sandwiches these days?"

Lisbon stared at him in confusion, then he saw comprehension light her eyes and she laughed, "Wait, _you've_ been taking his lunches?"

She was obviously trying to hold in her giggles, he found it quite adorable. A buzzed Teresa Lisbon was both adorable and entertaining.

"You're so bad, you're always annoying me and apparently stealing lunches," she said, resting her hand over his on their table, "but you can be sweet when you want to."

Okay, maybe "buzzed" was to put it lightly.

Their server came with their pizza, setting it down between them.

"Yay! Pizza's here!" Lisbon exclaimed. Fortunately she was still aware of her voice volume and didn't yell it out for all to hear, just more excited than she normally would be.

"This is really good," she told him, biting into her slice.

"I'm glad you approve," he said, smiling at her almost childlike wonder. Hopefully the pizza would soak up some of the alcohol in her stomach.

They ate silently, Lisbon left the crust of her second slice, not having enough room to finish it. She was sitting back and sighing in contentment.

"I'm glad you convinced me to go out tonight," she quietly said, looked up at him across the table. He was wiping his fingers on this napkin.

"I'm glad too," he said, maybe she was starting to sober up?

Jane took care of their check and had the rest of the pizza boxed to take home.

"Teresa? Please give me the keys," he asked, bracing himself. He was giving her a chance to do this amicably. To his surprise she wordlessly dug the keys out of her pocket and handed them to him.

"Just don't drive too fast okay?" was the only thing she said, then she hooked her hand around his elbow as they started walking to her car. He only wished she would do all this when she was completely sober. Thinking back he realized she was nervous, some of it had to be them going out in public together for dinner, that he had accepted, but to drink so much?

Jane was at the wheel, Lisbon beside him in the passenger seat, both securely buckled in. As he drove he noticed she seemed to grow drowsy, but then visibly rapidly blink her eyes, seeming to wake herself up. She wanted to stay awake, not because she was concerned with his driving, but she had an objective in mind. He wondered if she planned to shower tonight.

***

When they arrived home Jane juggled the take out box with Lisbon, who was hanging on to his arm, as he searched for the house key. When the door opened, he reached in, feeling for the light switch and turned on the kitchen lights.

Lisbon was suddenly hugging him, pressing herself into his front as Jane tried to not drop the box, setting it down on the table near the door, wrapping his free arm around her back then reaching out to close and lock the door.

"Hey Teresa, are you feeling sleepy?" he asked, both hands free now to hold on to her. She slid up against him, kissing a startled Jane. He closed his eyes as her tongue pushed against his lips, asking for entrance, he acquiesced. Their wet muscles slid tightly against each other, she groaned into his mouth, her tongue tracing his teeth. They pulled apart for breath, but she leaned up, kissing under his jaw, her hands pulling at his shirt, she was grinding against him and he was rapidly losing control of his body's response. This wasn't right. He held her by her upper arms and slowly pushed her back at arm's length.

"Patrick?" she questioned, panting lightly, only her hands touching him at his sides now. She was a beauty, her pupils dilated, darkened with desire for him, face flushed, chest lightly heaving, mouth almost pouting. The smell of alcohol heavy on her breath.

He lightly smiled at her, the smile not fully reaching his eyes, "Why don't you get ready for bed? I'll be up in a bit."

Before she could say anything, whether affirmatively or negatively to his suggestion, he pulled her in for a tight hug, then pushed back again, partially guiding her to the stairs, letting go to watch her climb them alone. He noticed her slight wobble as she braced herself against the wall as she made her way up them. Hearing the bedroom door open then close he finally let out the breath he had been holding. What a big surprise. He had to calm himself down, she had to have felt the physical effect she had on him. He breathed slowly until his racing pulse followed along, his obvious anatomy took longer.

Teresa had changed and was brushing her teeth when Patrick went into the bedroom to don his own pajamas. He left the room to go and brush his own teeth and witnessed Teresa weaving slightly down the hall, not the steady sure steps she normally took. He shook his head when she passed him, hand against the nearest wall.

Teresa entered the bedroom, only her bedside lamp lighting the room. Her head had that muzzy feeling she hadn't had in a long time. She drank some wine or beer on occasion, and once in a great while some of the harder stuff, but it had been a few years since she last had that much, especially on an empty stomach. Then again she was trying to get slightly drunk. She sat down hard on the edge of the bed, almost missing and falling to the floor. She should have stopped with only two beers. One whole pint with nothing in her stomach was plenty enough to get a buzz. She carefully crawled into bed, slightly annoyed with the discombobulated feeling and that her limbs weren't exactly moving as she ordered them to. She did not like losing control. She lay quietly, could hear the water running in the sink as Patrick spit into it.

She did it for him.

Teresa had been nervous that night not because they were out together publicly (okay, that was a small fraction of the reason) but because she felt ready. She just didn't have the courage to do so sober. She rarely did in fact. It had been difficult to trust her partner in bed, she would be full of anxiety, not wanting to disappoint, or be disappointed, in the past. She found that drinking allowed her to loosen up and let it happen. Letting someone be that close was so hard to do otherwise, she would be tense and from past experiences that was not the way to go.

She loved Patrick, but they have been in a relatively celibate relationship, not even touching each other in any intimate way, aside from a few kisses and brushes of skin. She wanted to let her inhibitions go, but it looked like Patrick was refusing her. Why did he push her away? She had thought he would be overjoyed with her actions, but he had pushed her away before they got anywhere. Did he not want to? Did he not want her? She had felt him move down there…

When Patrick entered, Teresa didn't meet his eyes, she looked off to the side, ashamed. He closed the door behind him and pulled up the cool sheets, settling into bed. She slowly reached out and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, then she stayed on her side, curling around her pillow.

"Teresa?" came the gentle call. Her eyes pricked, this is why she didn't drink so much often, it left her feeling vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, "I won't do it again."

His silence and inaction only confirmed for her that he indeed didn't approve of what she did earlier, hanging all over him. His wife had probably been demure and quiet. She was demoralized rather quickly in her drunken state and tears of their own volition ran down her face and into her pillow. She sniffed, trying to stop it.

"Oh Teresa," came his gentle voice again. She felt a soft hand on her shoulder, rubbing her arm, but she turned face down into her pillow still trying to control herself. Soon she found herself being pulled into Patrick's warm body. He sat up against the headboard and pulled her into his lap, resting her head against his shoulder as he rubbed her back and arms, whispering nonsense into her ear, kissing her ear and the side of her face on occasion. He felt her warm tears on his shoulder now, it spreading through the fabric in a wet patch.

Teresa was taking deep shuddering breaths, eyes sore and likely puffy and reddened, but she had stopped crying. God, what an emotional mess she was these days.

"I'm sorry," she said again, speaking into Patrick's wet shoulder, she was almost humiliated by the show of her weakness.

"Teresa, do I make you nervous? Why did you drink so much tonight?" he finally asked, "You shouldn't need to."

"I'm s-"

"Stop apologizing, there's no need," he interrupted. He didn't like this side of Teresa at all, where did his strong woman go?

"I just- I want to-" she couldn't get the words she needed out so instead tried a different approach, "It's been six years since I had a close to meaningful relationship and that was the last time I had… and even then I just couldn't relax without help."

Patrick listened quietly, slightly uncomfortable. He could unabashedly talk about other people's proclivities and sexual behavior because he didn't care. He cared for Teresa however, so it was difficult.

"Have you never… initiated sexual contact before?" he asked, hoping to ease her with clinical terms.

If her face wasn't already red from crying, Teresa was certain it would be now, "I- a couple times, but I usually wait for the guy to start it."

"Low sex drive?"

The question was a bit startling, she didn't know how to answer, "I don't know. Maybe, I guess. Maybe I just got used to the fact that it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, it wasn't fulfilling."

Patrick grunted, Teresa wasn't sure what the sound meant. Disapproval?

"Did they hurt you?" he asked even more quietly.

"Oh no, nothing like that," she was quick to assure him, even raising her tear stained face in the dark. She turned in his arms, scooting a bit to now sit between his legs, her back resting against his front, Patrick's arms now around her stomach.

He smiled lightly, "You had to get drunk to seduce me?"

"God, when you put it that way," she buried her face in her hands, "I sound so pathetic."

"Not at all, I'm very humbled to think that you went through all that trouble to try to sex me up," he said, he heard a strangled sound come from her and pulled her back against him, laughing lightly.

Teresa slapped one of his arms, "It's not funny! Okay! I haven't gone out trying to seduce someone for years, much less sleep with a man, give me a break!"

"A contraire, you seduce me every night and every morning you curl up against me, you seduce me when you smile at me. You seduce me when you drink coffee," he finished, nibbling her ear. She squirmed away from his mouth, it tickling her.

"Coffee?" she was quite mystified.

"Yes, coffee. I like how you sip at it," he stated, amusement evident in his tone.

Teresa's imagination expanded the picture for her, she felt hot, "Oh."

He scooted them down, laying on their sides so that he was spooning her. He reached up with a finger, delicately following the curve of her ear with it, moving her hair behind it, "Tonight I want you to sleep off the alcohol," his moist breath grazed her ear, "I want you completely alert when you seduce me so that you won't forget anything that happens. Alcohol numbs your senses and can make certain… goals difficult to achieve. I think you'll agree that it will feel much better. I want you to forget everyone before me, it's only the two of us. We'll find out what we like together."

Teresa shivered with the promises in his voice, she wanted to find out now… but he did have a good point. She was also worn down and ready to fall asleep at any moment. She suddenly wondered if he was hypnotizing her, he might as well be when he spoke like that. She was so sleepy, it seemed that lead weights had attached themselves to her eyelids.

"Goodnight Teresa…"


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Notes:** Looks like the popularity of this story is waning. I guess that's to be expected since this is a sequel and like movie sequels *usually* doesn't do as well as the original. But hey, we'll keep chugging along.

Thank you yaba for being a super editor!

Thanks to the following for reading and reviewing: xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Well, not this chapter, but next chapter… Maybe I'm letting Jane be too sweet, but then again I got him over some of his hang ups relatively early on so…), mwalter1 (lol! But can't you see it happening to Lisbon? I figured with her transition from SFPD to CBI and then becoming a senior agent she lost personal time and would be more geared towards work and she just doesn't seem the type to have one night stands, but then again you never know…), Hikaru Ceres (If Jane was speaking in a quiet, soothing voice… yah, that might do it.), The Lonely Fox (Yes, I think as much as a frustration Jane could be, I believe he can be noble when he so chooses… but he can also be a wily S.O.B. too when he so chooses lol!), yaba (Thank you!), Ebony10 (Time is going by quickly, I know.), lisbon69 (Glad you're all caught up. Yes, they shall be learning this weekend…)

**Chapter 17**

Teresa awoke with a headache and a dry tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She opened her mouth, moving her tongue around and gingerly placed a hand to her forehead. She also needed to go to the bathroom, her bladder full. She removed herself from Patrick's arms, which woke him up and he watched as she stumbled away from the bed, heading out of the room.

Lisbon felt better after relieving herself, washing her hands and her face with cool water and leaning against the counter a moment. The headache wasn't too bad, likely a result of dehydration from all the alcohol she consumed the previous night. She grabbed the glass next to the sink and filled it with water from the faucet, drinking it quickly, filling it again, this time drinking the soothing liquid slowly. She wouldn't dare call this a hangover, just dehydration. She would probably be fine in an hour or two.

She was focused on her own comfort, that her mind could only skirt around the reason for why she was this way for so long. Bracing herself against the bathroom counter, she looked into the mirror. Her hair was a wavy mess, there were a couple light creases on the right side of her face, slightly reddened. She didn't blush or feel embarrassed now, perhaps too tired to feel that currently.

Teresa lifted her shirt up, first looking in the mirror, then looking down at herself, inspecting her skin. There was the small pale line to the side of her belly button that Patrick had kissed. Further up at her rib cage there was a raised, dark pink scar where a tube was inserted to remove the air trapped around her lungs. Above that, right under her breast, scars from a bullet and surgical wounds to clear it of bone fragments. It was a raised line with a few dots along the sides where the sutures had been. It was healing slowly, but showed abruptly against her skin, jarring to the touch after feeling the smooth skin surrounding it. All those scars just on her left side.

She had a few other scars, much older and mostly faded, but several still visible. They were glaringly obvious to herself since she knew of them, though only a couple would catch the eye of a casual observer. She pulled her shirt back down. It was only wishful thinking that they would disappear. Another reason she wanted to be drunk, to try to forget so it was easier to be with Patrick. The dark would be kinder, he'd still be able to feel a few of them, but it was better than nothing.

There was a knocking at the door, Lisbon's head jerked to the side.

"Teresa? Did you fall in or something?" Jane called out, "Because there are other people who also need to use the bathroom."

Lisbon sighed and opened the door, Jane smiling at her in his light blue button up pajamas.

"Headache?" he asked.

"Yah, you," she quipped, walking past him. Her body straightened when she felt a light swat on her backside, she turned just in time to see Jane's grinning face as the door closed and locked.

"Hey!" she yelled through the door, fuming. "Idiot," she grumbled, walking back to the bedroom, falling face first into bed. She wasn't going to run this morning because of the headache, maybe this afternoon. It was the Saturday morning of a three day weekend. Sleeping in was definitely on her list and after relieving herself and quenching her thirst, she was going to fulfill her objective.

"Going back to bed already?"

Teresa turned her head to see Patrick from the corner of her eye. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he studied her.

"Yes," was her short reply.

Patrick walked in, sitting down on the foot of the bed, "Any plans for today?"

"Sleep now, run later."

"I see, a very solid plan," he said. She didn't respond and seemed to be breathing into her pillow. She was just about laying diagonally on the bed, feet hanging over the edge. Patrick waited, but there was no sign she was going to move. Patrick leaned over, grabbing at one of her feet. The bed jolted under him as Teresa pulled away her foot, tucking her legs up onto the bed.

"What?" she asked, somewhat annoyed, as she pushed herself up a bit, looking over her shoulder.

Patrick gave her his most pitiful look, "Teresa," he whined, "I'm awake and booored. Come on, get up."

"I have a headache and I'm sleeping in, I don't care what you do as long as you're not bothering me," she stated, rearranging the pillows so that one was under her head and the other rolled in her arms.

"You were a lot more fun last night," he huffed, then ducked as a pillow hit him. He grinned boyishly at the sour look Teresa shot him. She closed her eyes and brought a hand up to her forehead, massaging her temples as she lay back down on the remaining pillow. Patrick crawled onto the bed on hands and knees, flipping over so he could sit against the headboard, next to Teresa's head. She opened her eyes and looked up at him warily. He gave her an innocent look that she didn't buy at all.

"Here," he said, pulling her head up onto his lap. Gentle fingers probed her head and started massaging. She let out a relieved sigh. If only he was always on massage duty. Once in a while his fingers would brush against her scalp lightly, sending an occasional tingle down her spine. It was an odd sensation that sometimes happened when she got a haircut, though in this setting, with this man (and had she not had a headache) it was quite stimulating. Oddly enough it reminded her of how her mother, used to brush Teresa's hair.

Patrick swept back her dark hair, resting his right hand on her shoulder and left hand on his lap beside her head.

Teresa was on the edge of consciousness, eyes half closed, staring into nothingness, enjoying the silence and warmth as she drowsed.

"Are you ready to get up now?"

"Why do you have to ruin a good moment?"

***

Between Jane's magic hands and her almost nap, Lisbon's headache had dissipated early on in the day. Jane insisted they go out to shop, he wanted to have an indoor barbeque (because Lisbon refused to go out to the park for an outdoor one) and so they did. He complained about her lack of a grill, to which she replied that she didn't have a yard to keep one in, and suggested that they just _not_ have a barbeque.

Jane wanted them to make everything instead of buy things readymade. He was very excited and reminded her of a little boy.

"You know it's just the two of us," she reminded him, looking worriedly at the shopping cart that was filling up.

"Of course," he replied, paying her no mind as he tossed in ground beef.

"We are not going to be able to eat all that," she said, gesturing to the beef brisket, ground beef, ears of corn, and potatoes.

"Teresa, it's a barbeque. We're supposed to have plenty of food to gorge on," he said, picking out some cheddar cheese.

She looked up at him, he was actually wearing jeans today, a little surprise for her apparently, but he wore one of his buttoned shirts tucked in. She really hadn't seen him as a meat and potatoes type guy, not with his usual three piece suits and recent past of wealth. Of course he didn't look like the type of guy who would work with the SCU either so…

"Have you done this often?" she asked, picking out some hamburger buns.

"No," he answered, then paused, seemingly staring into his past, "maybe once a year with Diane and Sophie. Before that…"

"Did your dad?" she questioned, he never brought up his parents.

"Once," he pushed the cart again, ending it with that. Lisbon had realized long ago that there must be a reason he didn't talk about his parents. His file didn't include much of his life prior to him having his own television show. Jane had only relatively recently started talking about his wife and daughter out of context with Red John.

Jane paid for the food while Lisbon complained about the amount of groceries. He shrugged and said, "After this we won't have to cook for a month."

"I don't plan on eating this stuff every day, I'm not sure it'll all fit in the fridge," she muttered as she loaded her car, "This has got to be some sort of left over caveman thing."

"I heard that!" Jane yelled, from his position at the passenger side door, after unloading the cart and taking it to a corral.

"That's fine, now that we've hunted and gathered this bountiful feast tell me, oh Great One, how are you going to cook it all in my tiny kitchen?" she said sarcastically, opening the car door and rested a hand on her hip briefly, cocking an eyebrow at him, before climbing in.

He raised both his eyebrows thoughtfully and finally responded, "Very carefully."

Lisbon furrowed her brows a bit, the corner of her mouth pulling to the side, creasing it into that 'not dimple', "That's not an answer."

"I thought it was," Jane shrugged and buckled in.

***

For lunch, they ate some of the left over pizza from the previous night, then Jane set to work. They had bought barbeque sauce, but he stirred in other spices with it before smothering the brisket in it with plenty of black pepper. He stuck it in the small convection oven to start cooking. Corn and potatoes were cleaned then wrapped in foil, added to the oven.

"I think that's enough," she said, studying the oven.

"But we still have hot dogs and burgers," Jane stated, already opening up the package of ground beef, "and these won't just be any burgers, but blue cheese burgers… unless you really don't like blue cheese, then you can have a regular cheeseburger."

Lisbon just shook her head at him, "Fine, do what you like. It's not like I can stop you anyway."

Lisbon gave in fairly easily. He had already bought everything, was doing all the cooking, all she did was watch, wash, and wrap the potatoes in foil. She was glad he liked cooking as much as he did.

***

Jane and Lisbon ate on the front steps of her building, enjoying the last of warmer temperatures before the relatively rapid drop to come in the following months. It was still light out; the sun wouldn't set for another two hours.

Lisbon put down her plate and napkin, leaning back against the railing, and letting out a groan, "I am stuffed. Thanks for cooking."

"And thank you for cleaning up," he smiled at her, eyes sparkling impishly.

Lisbon's head was tilted to the side, eyes rolling as her hand flopped in a lazy wave, "Yah yah, I'll be doing that later. I don't think I can move right now."

Jane placed his own plate down on the step beside him, leaning back, placing his hands on cool concrete as he looked to the sky, slightly squinting, his eyes catching sight of two small birds diving and circling each other midair. It was amazing to see.

"We still have pie," he reminded her, grinning at the groan she let out.

"Give me another hour or two… maybe three," she added, closing her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face.

"We could go for a walk," Jane suggested.

Lisbon opened one eye at him, "We'll see. Again, maybe in another hour or two."

It was very relaxing for Jane to see her this way. She didn't care about anyone else at the moment, had no worries other than her full stomach, just spending the day lazing about. During the work week, she almost always had her nose to the grindstone, doing her best, to the point of (and past) exhaustion that it was difficult to identify the woman sitting next to him as the same person.

Lisbon was finally able to move after more than half an hour of sitting quietly with Jane and started cleaning up the crowded kitchen, wrapping food for the fridge and freezer respectively. If they both ate only the food Jane bought, for all three daily meals it would probably last just short of a week. Of course, Lisbon wasn't much of a breakfast person during the weekdays and there was no way she would eat hot dogs, hamburgers, or barbeque brisket that early in the morning anyway. She really wasn't too big a fan of red meat in general, not that she would refuse eating it, just wasn't particularly fond of it.

After successfully stacking and squeezing the food into all available surfaces and crevices in the refrigerator, she turned to the counter to start on the dishes to find the apple pie, staring at her. Her suddenly empty kitchen counter made the dessert look lonely. She shook her head, ridiculous. Why did sweets take on human attributes? She was disgusted herself and pointedly ignored the pie; she was still much too full to even consider eating it.

Jane chose that moment to suddenly appear out of thin air, after apparently deciding to come in from outside and was smiling knowingly at her, "It's talking to you, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, not looking up from the dishes she was washing.

"You know, the pie. It's quite obvious."

Lisbon glared at him briefly, stupid Jane and his smug know-it-all expression.

"So are we going for that walk?"

"Maybe you can go for a walk with the pie since you insist it can speak and seem quite focused on it, then both of you will stop bothering me," she muttered. He chuckled and came around, hugging her from behind, her back flush against his front. She turned her head to see him and got a kiss on her cheek for the effort. He rested his chin on her shoulder as she finished washing, flicking water at his face. Jane released her, wiping his face as he stepped back, "That wasn't very nice and for that I just might go and elope with the pie. She's much sweeter than you are."

"That is a horrible attempt at a pun," she gave him one of her full smiles, "I could almost hear the drum set."

The two did go for a walk after a little while, much to Jane's dismay, the pie stayed home. At some point Jane noticed after a while that Lisbon kept surreptitiously darting glances at his arm. His hands were currently buried in his pockets. We would turn his head slightly to the side and smile at her, almost encouragingly while the reticent woman pretended not to notice. He finally slipped his hand out, looking straight ahead. It was a little while before he felt the tentative touch of her fingers brush his palm, sliding her hand into his. It lasted but for a few short minutes during the stretch of sidewalk that held no other pedestrians, but it was a huge milepost.

They returned home just as the sun kissed the horizon, it appearing a hazy blood orange in the sky.

***

**A/N Part 2: Warning! Next chapter is the reason this story's rating is changing from "T" to "M" for "Mature" as in "Mature audiences only"! Please follow the appropriate age guidelines for your country and your own judgment.**

Well, I've done my part to warn you dear readers, now it's up to you to take heed of this warning. If you are uncomfortable with sexual situations, or not old enough, please skip Chapter 18 and wait to read Chapter 19.

Thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18 Rated M

***WARNING* This chapter is the reason for the change in rating from "T" to "M" for Mature! Please heed this warning. Sexual situations ahead. I have given fair warning so use your own judgment.**

**I have also made a "T+" rated version of this chapter, it will be posted after this.**

Well, I think that's enough of a warning. It's up to the reader if they choose to listen or not.

**Author's Notes:** Big thanks to yaba who tirelessly slaved over this chapter, editing and building upon my chapter to make it smoother and easier to understand for you, the readers. She went over it with a fine toothed comb. So everyone give her a big hand!

My first time writing… this type of thing so hope it all goes well.

Thank you Liery (Thank you very much! Yes, many people seem to be very excited about this chapter. I think the main peak of the overall story was in Blue Memories since it was just the overall struggle of them finally getting together so this story is more laid back in general since the arguments are more domestic in nature and not the initial push. It is nice to see laid back Teresa.), mwalter1 (Haha, well, here it is!), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Your choice. I also made an edited version that slightly less "M" and more "T" by trimming out unimportant details that cause the rating change…), yaba (A domesticated Jane just turns me on LOL! I'd rather see a guy cooking and cleaning than doing stunt driving or something else dangerous, but that's just me… Thanks for all your help and support! Glad you think the build up is good.), The Lonely Fox (Some people are more reserved than others in different aspects of their lives and my Lisbon is a little rusty…), lisbon69 (lol, well yes, *you* would want to take this on. If you're a kid trapped in a woman's body are you allowed to read "M"? Just teasing! ;-P), Hikaru Ceres (Thank you very much, glad it's easy to read (?) something about it not being heavy… I personally love reading multi-chaptered stories that's over 10,000 words long to give me a nice contented feeling, however The Mentalist fanfic archive here don't seem to have too many of those and lots of short one-shots. Nothing wrong with one-shots, I just want to be able to read a long developed story that will leave me satisfied. There are several short fics I've read and liked but they leave me wanting more and "more" is not forthcoming most times. Given time I imagine this archive will grow and there will be more long stories to choose from.), Ebony10 (and so I have finally changed the rating after many warnings.)

I have to admit, I borrowed an idea from the "Vagina Monologues". If you've seen it maybe you might recognize it. My hint to you is "Bob".

Enjoy!

**Chapter 18**

Shortly after their walk and finally succumbing to small slices of apple pie after all, Jane and Lisbon prepared for bed.

Teresa came into the bedroom only to find him sitting against the headboard, totally engrossed in a book. As she drew closer she recognized the cover, and she was certain her whole body blushed a hot red. She quickly went to his side and attempted to retrieve her romance novel from his grasp. Patrick, however, jerked it out of the way, pulling Teresa down across his lap, causing her to grunt, and adding surprise to the emotions she was currently feeling. She was quick to push herself up and grab at the book again.

"This isn't funny! Give it back!" she ground out, starting to wrestle with him as he kept the book out of reach in one hand, holding her back with his other. They ended up twisting on top of the bed, Patrick laughing and Teresa cursing at him, anger covering up her embarrassment. She had managed to roll him onto his back, pinning his arm down against the bed; Patrick finally relented and released the book, which Teresa quickly snatched up, holding it protectively against her chest.

"You are such an insensitive jerk sometimes, you know that?!" she yelled at him, sitting in the middle of the bed, her knees up in front of her. Teresa turned her back to a laughing Patrick who stretched out on the mattress, reaching out to lightly run his fingers across her lower back, feeling her tense.

"I didn't mean to rile you up, forgive me?" he asked, no longer laughing but she could hear the smile in his voice, "I was only doing a little research."

She didn't want to ask.

She scooted over to the bedside table, shoving the book into the drawer for lack of anywhere else to put it. No sense trying to hide it elsewhere since Patrick was right there. She briefly debated leaving him on the bed and going to the couch, but decided she wasn't quite that angry. While she was thinking two hands grabbed her, dragging her down onto the bed, Patrick's upside down curly head above her, blocking the ceiling light from her vision; his face shadowed, but she could see his white teeth. She huffed and rolled her eyes, but didn't move, instead letting her body fall limp. Her arms, however, were wrapped across her chest.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look when you're angry at me?" Patrick asked, bending down and kissing her nose. She scrunched her face, reaching up with a hand to wipe at the end of her nose.

"You get to turn off the light," she replied briskly, waiting for him to let go of her shoulders.

"Maybe I want the lights on," he purred, his face inches from her.

"Maybe you want to sleep on the couch."

She stared at him challengingly for a moment, then he gave her another kiss on the nose and released her, pushing away from the bed and walking to the light switch beside the open door, which he closed. Teresa sat up and pulled back the bed sheets, crawling under them and rearranging her pillow, Patrick back and beside her. She reached across the bed and turned off the lamp.

They laid side by side in silence for a long while. It felt heavy.

Patrick wasn't sure how many minutes had passed. Five? Ten? Thirty? He felt Teresa move. She was sliding up to him as usual, ready for sleep, but then he felt her right hand drag up against his left side slowly, her upper body coming over to rest on his chest, and in the sliver of moonlight filtering past the curtains, he was able to see the curve of her face as he felt her warm breath, now mingling with his. He brought his hands up her sides, pulling her on top of him fully, hands sliding down to hold her hips. His reaction seemed mindless almost. He had a hard time catching up to his actions, as he hadn't expected this at all.

Then she was kissing him, her hands coming up to tangle in his curls, mouths fused in a heated, wet caress, her body bearing down on his. They were starting to breathe harshly through their noses, their lack of oxygen becoming an issue, when Patrick's hands pressed her hips down on his. Teresa gasped against his lips, feeling the evidence of his ardor against her upper thigh. She couldn't believe this was happening, she had to psych herself out to start this, but now their bodies seemed to guide them. Their cheeks were pressed against each other now, ragged breaths rushing, breaking the silence between them, hearts thudding almost in unison. Patrick pressed his nose into the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply, tasting her, feeling her shudder against him. His hands had found the edge of her top, now touching bare skin as Teresa pushed up on his chest, finding the buttons to his shirt. He felt her almost shake, whether in excitement or apprehension he couldn't quite decide. It was likely both.

Soon she was spreading open his shirt, small, warm hands smoothing their way across his torso and sides. His own hands were making their way up her back, pausing when his left hand encountered rough skin on the lower part of her shoulder blade, his fingers tracing the pattern it made. Teresa froze. It wasn't very large, but a series of small, uneven patches, each the size of the tip of his pinky finger, dissolving into smaller patches. He noticed she was trying to slide his left hand away from the area.

Teresa's aroused state was almost doused out with the realization of what had caught Patrick's attention, even in the dark. Of course he'd notice it, even if he was blind, he was one of the most observant people in the state, maybe even in the country. He would still love her, he would, but that didn't mean he had to love the scars.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, the first words spoken since before the lights had been turned out. He sensed her shaking her head, subdued, then he asked, quieter, "Did it hurt?"

At first, she was still but then moved again, perhaps trying to distract him. She made him sit up so she could remove his shirt, tossing it aside, and pushing him back down against the pillows. He let her, knowing she needed to try and forget if they were to continue, but knowing he would try his damndest to show her not to fear her own body or his reactions.

Teresa traced the tiny hairs on his chest, then spread out her hands against the planes of his torso and stomach, the feel of his warm skin beneath her fingers indescribable. It wasn't the body of an athlete, but it was still appreciatively solid. She had wondered before what his skin would feel like, bared to her as it was now and was more than satisfied with it. Teresa hoped to make up for what she felt to be her shortcomings. She felt him press up against her core and blushed, glad he couldn't see, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure through her, culminating in a tingling sensation. She leaned down over him, lightly nipping against his chest and found his nipple, suckling it.

Patrick had had enough and put his hands on her again, holding her small frame against his as he turned them over, pinning her underneath him. He was all for her running the show… later. He again found the hem of her shirt, trying a second time to lift it up, to take it off. He gently slid it up her rib cage, his sensitive, though blunter, fingers lightly caressing her. He knew the location of the first scar he saw that day on the couch and carefully felt along her side and noticed the subtle change in her skin, the ever so slight smooth texture of it. He bent down to kiss her lips, partially to distract her as he allowed his hands to wander, to explore the mystery that had intrigued him for months. Gently, his right hand found what it was looking for, the scars under her breast from when she was shot. He smoothed fingers and thumb over it, lightly tracing over her ribs, brushing the soft underside of her breast.

Teresa squirmed under him, ashamed of the rough scars. His mouth had only distracted her for so long and then he was pulling the shirt up, her arms forced to go up to allow the clothing to pass. The cool air of the room hit her skin, causing a shiver. Her hands settled on his shoulders, pulling him down again, a hand sliding to the back of his neck and into his hair. His weight felt good on her, pressing her into the bed; it was almost reassuring, subconsciously making her feel less exposed. As their hips slid against each other, the familiar ache between her thighs began to build. She had the slightly distracting thought of the uncomfortable feeling her underwear left, it sticking to her most intimate of places, then it vanished from her mind, his hands rousing all of her nerves as if from a deep sleep, leaving her reeling in anticipation. His tongue tasted her mouth again then moved onto her neck, his breath cool against the heated skin. He worked his way down to her chest, his hand coming up to gently cup one of her breasts, thumb running over its peak, pebbling the nipple. Her back involuntarily arched off the bed, sighing when his warm and wet mouth replaced his hand, leaving goose bumps on her skin, making her almost hiss in pleasure. She stroked the back of his head, combing his curly hair with her fingers, its soft texture only adding to the heat building inside of her and warming her heart with his attentions.

He could hear her controlled gasps, trying to stay quiet and smiled against her breast, continuing his ministrations slowly, switching sides, mouth not wanting to leave her skin for even a moment. He rubbed a palm lightly over the unoccupied twin, unconsciously keeping it warm. He let his hand wander down her side and fingered the waistband of her shorts for a moment before slipping underneath, lightly squeezing the pliant skin no longer hidden by layers of sleepwear. He felt her hold on his shoulder tighten, fingernails lightly digging in.

He moved away from her shorts, resting his hand over her hip as he again released a breast, moving his lips to the soft skin of her ribcage, kissing the scar from her bullet wound. Her continued shame only made him hurt for her, something inside stinging. Her hands loosened and stilled, the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the room. She tried to pull him up by his biceps, but Patrick refused, too mesmerized by the expanse of skin at his mercy, finding the beauty in the physical remnants of the scars.

Resting his head on her breast bone, he ran his fingers from her hip to the rough patches of skin, reverently exploring it. His other arm snaked its way around her back, holding her to him. Teresa finally gave up trying to pull him up, instead began to slowly stroke the back of his head, while holding back tears. Patrick was more or less on his side now continuing to lightly finger the raised flesh, his reminder of her mortality. He moved up her body, a hand leaving her, searching for her shirt. He gave her a short soft kiss on her lips before rolling over onto his back, now on her usual side of the bed, before carefully draping her shirt on top of the lampshade and turning it on. He meant to dim the light using the shirt, but it was still startling after the almost complete darkness.

Teresa had brought her arms up to cover herself, a hand searching for the pillow behind her. Patrick quickly returned to her side and noticed the tears glimmering in her eyes as he hugged her to him. Running a hand down her spine as the other carefully pulled away the pillow, he lay her down on it, pressing a kiss to her forehead and looking down upon her body. She closed her eyes and faced away, swallowing against the tears in her throat.

She felt his lips again, this time on her shoulder, his breath fanning over it, goose bumps forming. His fingers were lightly running over her forearms, giving her an almost tickling sensation. Another tender kiss was placed under her jaw, then her arm. She knew he wanted her to put her arms down, but she couldn't find it in herself to do so. He had stripped her of the security of darkness, the kind shadows that would hide her obvious flaws. He felt them, had been feeling them, but to see them…

"Teresa…" he breathed, urging her. He pressed his body against her, wrapping her up in his arms like a blanket, placing more kisses against her temple, under her eye, on her mouth. She finally gave in, there was no use resisting. Sooner or later, she always gave in to him.

His tongue traced the shell of her ear before he moved her arms aside. There, on her perfect body, the dark pink and white scars on her rib cage, the pale and small one on her side. He touched them again, pulling her against him, tucking her head under his chin.

"How did you get this one?" he asked quietly, finger running over the small pale one. Patrick had calmed in the proceeding moments, having taken ample time to show her, hoping she would understand his message.

Teresa opened her eyes to stare at his chest, tracing her own fingers along the skin there, trying to rip off the proverbial band aid to let him see her. She spoke finally, "I was cut, almost stabbed by a suspect a few years ago."

His hand ran up her back again and he looked down at what he had felt; a small cluster of scars, both smooth and pale as well as some small raised skin. The crushing eventuality had arrived. He knew of her past, saw the damage.

"Your father," he simply stated.

"A bottle."

He continued to worship her skin with his fingers, studying all that he could, a few dark moles, a smattering of barely noticeable pale striations.

He didn't tell her she was beautiful, she wouldn't believe him anyway, even though he was sincere, but then again he said something to her every day that she didn't believe. He was always right of course.

"You're strong and you're beautiful," he finally told her, raising her chin, trying to have her meet his eyes,

"You're always beautiful, but you don't always have to be strong."

Teresa sighed impatiently, knowing he was trying to break her insecurities, "Fine. I'm beautiful. Can we turn the light off now?"

Patrick's lips curled into a lopsided smile, sarcasm was her best defense against showing weakness. Her eyes had already dried, but she continued to look uncomfortable. His right hand made its way down her body, but not to her hip. Warm fingers pressed against the apex of her thighs, an involuntary gasp escaping her lips as she pulled him tightly against her in some ways trying to stop it, but also encouraging it. Her reaction kicked up the background humming of his body, her feminine sounds arousing him instantaneously. The area he had pressed against was pleasingly soft, hot, and damp. It gratified the male in him that he had such a potent affect on her

His hand drifted up to massage the flesh around her navel, tracing it briefly before testing the soft firmness of her belly.

"Are you trying to tickle me? Because you are choosing an odd time to do so," he heard her breathe out and chuckled in response, effectively dissipating the remaining tenseness.

"You are so weird," she added, finding his quirk endearing now, starting to get used to his evident obsession.

Patrick smiled gently, realizing his fascination with her belly had inadvertently shifted one of her insecurities into a point of humor and warmth with him.

Teresa must have decided that enough was enough. Her impatience could have been mistaken for bravery as her fingers hooked into the waistbands of both his underwear and pajama bottoms, pulling down.

"Ow! Gently, gently!" Patrick exclaimed, body jerking at the abruptness, the fabric pulled roughly over straining, though still sensitive, parts. He had grabbed one of her hands in an attempt to stop, though too late to deter the flash of pain. He looked sternly at her in disbelief as she tried to cover up her giggle with one hand.

"I'm sorry," she finally said with an apologetic smile; then he felt her warm hand slide from the waistband to his exposed anatomy, unable to stop the quick intake of air. She brought her other hand up, urging his face down to hers as the hand almost shyly explored. She felt the wiry hair, then the hot velvety skin that encased firm muscle, sliding down it in a loose hold. Teresa realized that Patrick was holding his breath, felt his abdomen tense against her. He pulled her hand away.

"Please at least let me get my pants off. I look ridiculous with it half down my ass and this is not how I want to go. This is going to end very quickly for me," he spoke into her hair rapidly then turned over, shucking his pants off. Teresa's eyes couldn't help but wander down his body and stopping at… his penis. She couldn't think of any other words to describe it without sounding ridiculous; she's heard worse words for it growing up with a bunch of boys, as well as working in a male dominated service. Her romance novels dictated that she call it "manhood" or "turgid length" or some other sort of nonsense.

'_I can't believe I'm embarrassed by my own thoughts of what to call it! I'm not a virgin!'_ she internally yelled.

"I promise that it'll still be there even if you look away," Patrick joked, causing Teresa to blink and look up at his face, not having realized she had been staring.

"Sorry," she murmured, flustered.

"It's fine. Has it been so long you forgot what one looked like?" he teased, his eyes gleaming in the lamplight.

"Shut up," she said, pushing against his chest as she tried to unsuccessfully repress a grin.

"There's my woman," he said warmly, pulling her in for another kiss, one hand tangling in her dark hair as the other scooped her up against him as he lay on his back. Her breasts flattened against his chest, naked flesh against naked flesh much more satisfying. His arousal was poking into her still clothed hip however.

Teresa reached a hand down to it, running a finger along it, causing Patrick to jerk and stiffen both in organ and the rest of his body.

"Teresa, if you want me to last at all you're going to need to stop that," he warned, voice sounding strained, "It's been a long while for me as well."

"Maybe we should get the box out of the drawer," she suggested, her voice throaty. He rested back against the bed, appreciatively watching the catlike stretch of her body as she leaned over him, reaching out to retrieve the contraceptives. They sat up once she had them in her hands, opening the box, and pulling out foil squares, tearing one off. Just watching her hold it between her fingers had him gulp. He placed the box on the bedside table and watched her, mesmerized, not offering his hand to take the foil square from her.

Teresa glanced up at Patrick and was treated to an intense gaze; it became clear he was urging her to do something just by the look in his eye. She tore the edge off carefully, fingers coming into contact with lubricant and she felt her lower abdomen clench in anticipation. With the latex held between her fingers, she slowly brought it over Patrick's lap. She could swear she saw him pulse and twitch under her gaze. Task completed he almost pounced on her, holding her down and pulling at her shorts. She lifted her hips up to let them slide down easier, leaving her in white cotton panties.

He watched her, tussled dark hair spread out on pillows, eyes half lidded in desire, short pants escaping her lips as it caused the rise and fall of her soft chest and belly, arms laying out beside her, palms up. He kneeled between her legs, cataloguing the sight of her lying so exposed for later safe keeping; the sight absolutely reeling. Whether she realized it or not, she was showing a trust to him, a different kind of belief in him, letting him view her as she did, no longer objecting to the light. He could fall in love with her all over again with just this, allowing him to see her this way.

Placing a hand on her stomach, he slowly pulled his palm down to rest above the delta of her thighs then turned his hand, fingers brushing lightly along her center, her thighs trying to close. She sat up against him, placing arms around his neck, her legs wrapping around his waist, her wet core pressing against his stomach to try and relieve the ache.

He hooked his thumbs into both sides of her panties and slid them down, as her legs loosened, sliding down his thighs. He slid down her legs, removing the soft cloth. He found her trimmed, moisture glittering on the short hairs closer to the nether lips; he was between her knees again, opening them up, but she sat up, reaching for him. He pushed her back down, wanting to see her in her entirety, wanting to extend her trust this much further. She looked off uncomfortably as he observed her again, but allowed it. None of her previous boyfriends had done this; they had all been about getting to the sex as soon as they were able. Patrick looked upon her like she was a painting, like a finely crafted piece of art, enjoying her even though she didn't understand it. And even though she didn't fully comprehend it, something inside came loose, something akin to relief dared to spread under his loving gaze. He finally moved, leaning down and pressing a kiss just beneath her navel as she pulled him up, clearly not too comfortable with that action either. He was content to let her guide him. He kissed along her belly, moving up slowly despite her pulling hands, making stops, covering more of her skin and then continuing on. His body was fully resting on top of her when their mouths connected, she worried his bottom lip gently with the edge of her teeth before sliding her tongue in against his, her hands tracing up and down his smooth back.

Patrick brought a hand down, again wanting to touch her. A finger traced the outside of her lower lips, as she shuddered against him, thighs clenching around his hips. He gently pushed the finger, breaking the seal of the lips, liquid slipping around the tip of his digit. He felt down her slit, found the small bundle of nerves, an organic pearl, circling it in languid movements, her hips trying to grind into his hand. He heard her barely moan as she bit down lightly on her lower lip, eyes closed and neck exposed to him. He bent down to scrape his own teeth against her, laving his tongue against the mole that marked her pulse point. His blunt finger slid easily down and found the source of her natural lubricant, dipping in, now feeling her inner muscles contract around it. How would he ever fit in there? Women were amazing creatures, he knew, but that such a small opening could then push out a baby was beyond miraculous. He had witnessed it once before and still found it hard to believe.

She was surprisingly tight; he almost feared for her and hoped he would be able to loosen her up even as the base male was cheering him on. Six years.

He twisted his finger inside of her heat as liquid seeped past. When he tried sliding in his middle finger along with his pointer, she let out a small grunt, but seemed to relax, breathing heavily as he licked her throat. She was holding onto him tightly now, her fingers clenching and unclenching around his middle. He pulled his wet fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking on them as he looked down at the beauty beneath him. Teresa's eyes widened at the sight, blush blossoming on her face and body. "The cat who ate the canary" didn't even begin to describe the devilish smile on Patrick's face as he pulled his fingers slowly from his mouth.

Teresa's mouth went dry even as liquid seemed to travel to her nether region, making her shudder with anticipation. She wasn't a stranger to oral sex, but neither was she an intimate friend.

A couple boyfriends had tried it on her, but she had been uncomfortable with it, especially with the perceived loss of control, became even more self-conscious. They all eventually stopped trying; one of them even seemed relieved about it. It looked like Patrick would try someday soon if that look on his face was any indication.

The man in question broke her reverie by kissing her deeply. She tasted herself, but was not as disgusted as she thought she would be. Her hands were again moving against skin that was slowly becoming damp. She rested one hand on the middle of his back as the other sought out a certain pulsating organ. She gently grasped it and guided it closer to herself. He slowly pushed against her, their breath hitching. She wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself up to him as he started to sink in. She was convulsing around with each little push inward, writhing against him. He stopped and looked down at her; Teresa opened her eyes, wondering why he stopped when their bodies had yet to meet. She noticed the perspiration at his temples, the moisture darkening his hair. He stared into her eyes, sea green on emeralds in the dimness as he started again, finally pushing in all the way, their hips touching, bodies now pressed flush against each other.

Teresa found herself stretched out tightly around him and tried to shift around to make it feel better, but his arms clenched down around her. Hands on her hips, Patrick breathed slowly in through his nose and out of his mouth, their foreheads pressed against each other. He felt that another move from her and he'd be done. Teresa stilled, receiving his silent pleas as they waited for the moment to pass.

They seemed to wait many long minutes, concept of actual time lost on them when he finally moved, kissing her again. She responded eagerly, bucking her hips slightly, testing. He slowly withdrew partway and then pushed in again, she was still so incredibly tight. They started a rhythm together, breathing becoming louder, bodies growing slick in their efforts. She started squeezing her muscles, which caused him to still again, closing his eyes tightly and concentrating. Teresa swept back his damp hair and kissed his temple. He had done more for her than anyone before him, more than she thought he could in one night, more than she imagined. She almost wished she could have waited for him, knowing how this could be and not the disappointments, the growing insecurities she had experienced before him. He had done more than enough already.

"It's okay," she whispered to him, but he refused to give in. In desperation, he slipped his hand in between her folds, finding her bundle of nerves and rubbing it, fingers ghosting over it in a mind numbing rhythm. Teresa arched her back, closing her eyes as she held on to him. She was gyrating into his hand even after he stopped moving. Her breath rang out harshly in the bedroom. Patrick couldn't stay still for too long, and began thrusting again, hand never leaving her skin, watching as she started to slowly, almost imperceptibly, lose control. Despite his best efforts to hold out for her, he reached his peak first, body straining against hers as he shivered beneath her fingers, stroking his back, lips kissing the salty skin of his shoulder and neck. He slammed down against her with a grunt and shuddered as she continued to rub his sweat slicked body and brought a gentle hand to his brow as he slumped down against her. She was certain it was over, but she didn't mind it at all, not with Patrick, not when he made her feel so warm and loved throughout.

It was after a moment's rest, still connected that she gasped unexpectedly, realizing her pleasure filled haze that Patrick brought his hand back down and was now moving his fingers expertly over her heat. He continued to rub her until finally her body stiffened as well, her head rolling back as she let out a small sound, felt him twitch inside of her as she shuddered and tightened around him. He didn't abate after, didn't even think of parting with her, the image of her now too mesmerizing to consider stopping.

Thus, he continued to gently rub her causing a second wave of unexpected pleasure to wash over her, leaving her a heaving and exhausted mess on the bed. Teresa realized that a tear had collected in the corner of her eye, but she was far from feeling an inch of sadness. It was a completeness she hadn't felt before. He finally pulled out of her, removing the condom and laboriously rolling over her to make sure it fell into the waste basket near the bed. Having accomplished that, he seemed to melt into the mattress as well, letting their bodies cool off for a while before moving one last time to pull up the covers that had been pushed down to the foot of the bed. Teresa rolled over onto him, her leg over his; arm around his chest as she placed a soft kiss on his lips then snuggled down into his shoulder.

"If that lamp burns my shirt, I'll burn your suits."

His eyes opened tiredly and she let out a weary laugh, patting him on the chest then rising above him to turn off the lamp. She settled back down against his side and Patrick kissed the top of her head, turning on his side to wrap his arms around her.


	19. Chapter 18 Rated T

**Rated T+ Version:** I decided to make a "T+" rated version so that people who are a little leery about "M" can still read this, just with less… graphic (?) scenes.

**Author's Notes:** Big thanks to yaba who tirelessly slaved over this chapter, editing and building upon my chapter to make it smoother and easier to understand for you, the readers. She went over it with a fine toothed comb. So everyone give her a big hand!

My first time writing… this type of thing so hope it all goes well.

Thank you Liery (Thank you very much! Yes, many people seem to be very excited about this chapter. I think the main peak of the overall story was in Blue Memories since it was just the overall struggle of them finally getting together so this story is more laid back in general since the arguments are more domestic in nature and not the initial push. It is nice to see laid back Teresa.), mwalter1 (Haha, well, here it is!), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Your choice. I also made an edited version that slightly less "M" and more "T" by trimming out unimportant details that cause the rating change…), yaba (A domesticated Jane just turns me on LOL! I'd rather see a guy cooking and cleaning than doing stunt driving or something else dangerous, but that's just me… Thanks for all your help and support! Glad you think the build up is good.), The Lonely Fox (Some people are more reserved than others in different aspects of their lives and my Lisbon is a little rusty…), lisbon69 (lol, well yes, *you* would want to take this on. If you're a kid trapped in a woman's body are you allowed to read "M"? Just teasing! ;-P), Hikaru Ceres (Thank you very much, glad it's easy to read (?) something about it not being heavy… I personally love reading multi-chaptered stories that's over 10,000 words long to give me a nice contented feeling, however The Mentalist fanfic archive here don't seem to have too many of those and lots of short one-shots. Nothing wrong with one-shots, I just want to be able to read a long developed story that will leave me satisfied. There are several short fics I've read and liked but they leave me wanting more and "more" is not forthcoming most times. Given time I imagine this archive will grow and there will be more long stories to choose from.), Ebony10 (and so I have finally changed the rating after many warnings.)

I have to admit, I borrowed an idea from the "Vagina Monologues". If you've seen it maybe you might recognize it. My hint to you is "Bob".

Enjoy!

**Chapter 18 v.2**

Shortly after their walk and finally succumbing to small slices of apple pie after all, Jane and Lisbon prepared for bed.

Teresa came into the bedroom only to find him sitting against the headboard, totally engrossed in a book. As she drew closer she recognized the cover, and she was certain her whole body blushed a hot red. She quickly went to his side and attempted to retrieve her romance novel from his grasp. Patrick, however, jerked it out of the way, pulling Teresa down across his lap, causing her to grunt, and adding surprise to the emotions she was currently feeling. She was quick to push herself up and grab at the book again.

"This isn't funny! Give it back!" she ground out, starting to wrestle with him as he kept the book out of reach in one hand, holding her back with his other. They ended up twisting on top of the bed, Patrick laughing and Teresa cursing at him, anger covering up her embarrassment. She had managed to roll him onto his back, pinning his arm down against the bed; Patrick finally relented and released the book, which Teresa quickly snatched up, holding it protectively against her chest.

"You are such an insensitive jerk sometimes, you know that?!" she yelled at him, sitting in the middle of the bed, her knees up in front of her. Teresa turned her back to a laughing Patrick who stretched out on the mattress, reaching out to lightly run his fingers across her lower back, feeling her tense.

"I didn't mean to rile you up, forgive me?" he asked, no longer laughing but she could hear the smile in his voice, "I was only doing a little research."

She didn't want to ask.

She scooted over to the bedside table, shoving the book into the drawer for lack of anywhere else to put it. No sense trying to hide it elsewhere since Patrick was right there. She briefly debated leaving him on the bed and going to the couch, but decided she wasn't quite that angry. While she was thinking two hands grabbed her, dragging her down onto the bed, Patrick's upside down curly head above her, blocking the ceiling light from her vision; his face shadowed, but she could see his white teeth. She huffed and rolled her eyes, but didn't move, instead letting her body fall limp. Her arms, however, were wrapped across her chest.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look when you're angry at me?" Patrick asked, bending down and kissing her nose. She scrunched her face, reaching up with a hand to wipe at the end of her nose.

"You get to turn off the light," she replied briskly, waiting for him to let go of her shoulders.

"Maybe I want the lights on," he purred, his face inches from her.

"Maybe you want to sleep on the couch."

She stared at him challengingly for a moment, then he gave her another kiss on the nose and released her, pushing away from the bed and walking to the light switch beside the open door, which he closed. Teresa sat up and pulled back the bed sheets, crawling under them and rearranging her pillow, Patrick back and beside her. She reached across the bed and turned off the lamp.

They laid side by side in silence for a long while. It felt heavy.

Patrick wasn't sure how many minutes had passed. Five? Ten? Thirty? He felt Teresa move. She was sliding up to him as usual, ready for sleep, but then he felt her right hand drag up against his left side slowly, her upper body coming over to rest on his chest, and in the sliver of moonlight filtering past the curtains, he was able to see the curve of her face as he felt her warm breath, now mingling with his. He brought his hands up her sides, pulling her on top of him fully, hands sliding down to hold her hips. His reaction seemed mindless almost. He had a hard time catching up to his actions, as he hadn't expected this at all.

Then she was kissing him, her hands coming up to tangle in his curls, mouths fused in a heated, wet caress, her body bearing down on his. They were starting to breathe harshly through their noses, their lack of oxygen becoming an issue, when Patrick's hands pressed her hips down on his. Teresa gasped against his lips, feeling the evidence of his ardor against her upper thigh. She couldn't believe this was happening, she had to psych herself out to start this, but now their bodies seemed to guide them. Their cheeks were pressed against each other now, ragged breaths rushing, breaking the silence between them, hearts thudding almost in unison. Patrick pressed his nose into the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply, tasting her, feeling her shudder against him. His hands had found the edge of her top, now touching bare skin as Teresa pushed up on his chest, finding the buttons to his shirt. He felt her almost shake, whether in excitement or apprehension he couldn't quite decide. It was likely both.

Soon she was spreading open his shirt, small, warm hands smoothing their way across his torso and sides. His own hands were making their way up her back, pausing when his left hand encountered rough skin on the lower part of her shoulder blade, his fingers tracing the pattern it made. Teresa froze. It wasn't very large, but a series of small, uneven patches, each the size of the tip of his pinky finger, dissolving into smaller patches. He noticed she was trying to slide his left hand away from the area.

Teresa's aroused state was almost doused out with the realization of what had caught Patrick's attention, even in the dark. Of course he'd notice it, even if he was blind, he was one of the most observant people in the state, maybe even in the country. He would still love her, he would, but that didn't mean he had to love the scars.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, the first words spoken since before the lights had been turned out. He sensed her shaking her head, subdued, then he asked, quieter, "Did it hurt?"

At first, she was still but then moved again, perhaps trying to distract him. She made him sit up so she could remove his shirt, tossing it aside, and pushing him back down against the pillows. He let her, knowing she needed to try and forget if they were to continue, but knowing he would try his damndest to show her not to fear her own body or his reactions.

Teresa traced the tiny hairs on his chest, then spread out her hands against the planes of his torso and stomach, the feel of his warm skin beneath her fingers indescribable. It wasn't the body of an athlete, but it was still appreciatively solid. She had wondered before what his skin would feel like, bared to her as it was now and was more than satisfied with it. Teresa hoped to make up for what she felt to be her shortcomings. She felt him press up against her core and blushed, glad he couldn't see, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure through her, culminating in a tingling sensation. She leaned down over him, lightly nipping against his chest.

Patrick had had enough and put his hands on her again, holding her small frame against his as he turned them over, pinning her underneath him. He was all for her running the show… later. He again found the hem of her shirt, trying a second time to lift it up, to take it off. He gently slid it up her rib cage, his sensitive, though blunter, fingers lightly caressing her. He knew the location of the first scar he saw that day on the couch and carefully felt along her side and noticed the subtle change in her skin, the ever so slight smooth texture of it. He bent down to kiss her lips, partially to distract her as he allowed his hands to wander, to explore the mystery that had intrigued him for months. Gently, his right hand found what it was looking for, the scars under her breast from when she was shot. He smoothed fingers and thumb over it, lightly tracing over her ribs, brushing the soft underside of her breast.

Teresa squirmed under him, ashamed of the rough scars. His mouth had only distracted her for so long and then he was pulling the shirt up, her arms forced to go up to allow the clothing to pass. The cool air of the room hit her skin, causing a shiver. Her hands settled on his shoulders, pulling him down again, a hand sliding to the back of his neck and into his hair. His weight felt good on her, pressing her into the bed; it was almost reassuring, subconsciously making her feel less exposed. As their hips slid against each other, the familiar ache between her thighs began to build. She had the slightly distracting thought of the uncomfortable feeling her underwear left, it sticking to her most intimate of places, then it vanished from her mind, his hands rousing all of her nerves as if from a deep sleep, leaving her reeling in anticipation. His tongue tasted her mouth again then moved onto her neck, his breath cool against the heated skin. He worked his way down to her chest, his hand coming up to gently cup one of her breasts, thumb running over its peak. Her back involuntarily arched off the bed, sighing when his warm and wet mouth replaced his hand, leaving goose bumps on her skin, making her almost hiss in pleasure. She stroked the back of his head, combing his curly hair with her fingers, its soft texture only adding to the heat building inside of her and warming her heart with his attentions.

He could hear her controlled gasps, trying to stay quiet and smiled against her breast, continuing his ministrations slowly, switching sides, mouth not wanting to leave her skin for even a moment. He rubbed a palm lightly over the unoccupied twin, unconsciously keeping it warm. He let his hand wander down her side and fingered the waistband of her shorts for a moment before slipping underneath, lightly squeezing the pliant skin no longer hidden by layers of sleepwear. He felt her hold on his shoulder tighten, fingernails lightly digging in.

He moved away from her shorts, resting his hand over her hip as he again released a breast, moving his lips to the soft skin of her ribcage, kissing the scar from her bullet wound. Her continued shame only made him hurt for her, something inside stinging. Her hands loosened and stilled, the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the room. She tried to pull him up by his biceps, but Patrick refused, too mesmerized by the expanse of skin at his mercy, finding the beauty in the physical remnants of the scars.

Resting his head on her breast bone, he ran his fingers from her hip to the rough patches of skin, reverently exploring it. His other arm snaked its way around her back, holding her to him. Teresa finally gave up trying to pull him up, instead began to slowly stroke the back of his head, while holding back tears. Patrick was more or less on his side now continuing to lightly finger the raised flesh, his reminder of her mortality. He moved up her body, a hand leaving her, searching for her shirt. He gave her a short soft kiss on her lips before rolling over onto his back, now on her usual side of the bed, before carefully draping her shirt on top of the lampshade and turning it on. He meant to dim the light using the shirt, but it was still startling after the almost complete darkness.

Teresa had brought her arms up to cover herself, a hand searching for the pillow behind her. Patrick quickly returned to her side and noticed the tears glimmering in her eyes as he hugged her to him. Running a hand down her spine as the other carefully pulled away the pillow, he lay her down on it, pressing a kiss to her forehead and looking down upon her body. She closed her eyes and faced away, swallowing against the tears in her throat.

She felt his lips again, this time on her shoulder, his breath fanning over it, goose bumps forming. His fingers were lightly running over her forearms, giving her an almost tickling sensation. Another tender kiss was placed under her jaw, then her arm. She knew he wanted her to put her arms down, but she couldn't find it in herself to do so. He had stripped her of the security of darkness, the kind shadows that would hide her obvious flaws. He felt them, had been feeling them, but to see them…

"Teresa…" he breathed, urging her. He pressed his body against her, wrapping her up in his arms like a blanket, placing more kisses against her temple, under her eye, on her mouth. She finally gave in, there was no use resisting. Sooner or later, she always gave in to him.

His tongue traced the shell of her ear before he moved her arms aside. There, on her perfect body, the dark pink and white scars on her rib cage, the pale and small one on her side. He touched them again, pulling her against him, tucking her head under his chin.

"How did you get this one?" he asked quietly, finger running over the small pale one. Patrick had calmed in the proceeding moments, having taken ample time to show her, hoping she would understand his message.

Teresa opened her eyes to stare at his chest, tracing her own fingers along the skin there, trying to rip off the proverbial band aid to let him see her. She spoke finally, "I was cut, almost stabbed by a suspect a few years ago."

His hand ran up her back again and he looked down at what he had felt; a small cluster of scars, both smooth and pale as well as some small raised skin. The crushing eventuality had arrived. He knew of her past, saw the damage.

"Your father," he simply stated.

"A bottle."

He continued to worship her skin with his fingers, studying all that he could, a few dark moles, a smattering of barely noticeable pale striations.

He didn't tell her she was beautiful, she wouldn't believe him anyway, even though he was sincere, but then again he said something to her every day that she didn't believe. He was always right of course.

"You're strong and you're beautiful," he finally told her, raising her chin, trying to have her meet his eyes,

"You're always beautiful, but you don't always have to be strong."

Teresa sighed impatiently, knowing he was trying to break her insecurities, "Fine. I'm beautiful. Can we turn the light off now?"

Patrick's lips curled into a lopsided smile, sarcasm was her best defense against showing weakness. Her eyes had already dried, but she continued to look uncomfortable. His right hand made its way down her body, but not to her hip. Warm fingers pressed against the apex of her thighs, an involuntary gasp escaping her lips as she pulled him tightly against her in some ways trying to stop it, but also encouraging it. Her reaction kicked up the background humming of his body, her feminine sounds arousing him instantaneously. It gratified the male in him that he had such a potent affect on her

His hand drifted up to massage the flesh around her navel, tracing it briefly before testing the soft firmness of her belly.

"Are you trying to tickle me? Because you are choosing an odd time to do so," he heard her breathe out and chuckled in response, effectively dissipating the remaining tenseness.

"You are so weird," she added, finding his quirk endearing now, starting to get used to his evident obsession.

Patrick smiled gently, realizing his fascination with her belly had inadvertently shifted one of her insecurities into a point of humor and warmth with him.

Teresa must have decided that enough was enough. Her impatience could have been mistaken for bravery as her fingers hooked into the waistbands of both his underwear and pajama bottoms, pulling down.

"Ow! Gently, gently!" Patrick exclaimed, body jerking at the abruptness, the fabric pulled roughly over straining, though still sensitive, parts. He had grabbed one of her hands in an attempt to stop, though too late to deter the flash of pain. He looked sternly at her in disbelief as she tried to cover up her giggle with one hand.

"I'm sorry," she finally said with an apologetic smile; then he felt her warm hand slide from the waistband to his exposed anatomy, unable to stop the quick intake of air. She brought her other hand up, urging his face down to hers as the hand almost shyly explored. Teresa realized that Patrick was holding his breath, felt his abdomen tense against her. He pulled her hand away.

"Please at least let me get my pants off. I look ridiculous with it half down my ass and this is not how I want to go. This is going to end very quickly for me," he spoke into her hair rapidly then turned over, shucking his pants off. Teresa's eyes couldn't help but wander down his body and stopping at… his penis. She couldn't think of any other words to describe it without sounding ridiculous; she's heard worse words for it growing up with a bunch of boys, as well as working in a male dominated service. Her romance novels dictated that she call it "manhood" or "turgid length" or some other sort of nonsense.

'_I can't believe I'm embarrassed by my own thoughts of what to call it! I'm not a virgin!'_ she internally yelled.

"I promise that it'll still be there even if you look away," Patrick joked, causing Teresa to blink and look up at his face, not having realized she had been staring.

"Sorry," she murmured, flustered.

"It's fine. Has it been so long you forgot what one looked like?" he teased, his eyes gleaming in the lamplight.

"Shut up," she said, pushing against his chest as she tried to unsuccessfully repress a grin.

"There's my woman," he said warmly, pulling her in for another kiss, one hand tangling in her dark hair as the other scooped her up against him as he lay on his back. Her breasts flattened against his chest, naked flesh against naked flesh much more satisfying. His arousal was poking into her still clothed hip however.

Teresa reached a hand down to it, running a finger along it, causing Patrick's body to jerk and stiffen.

"Teresa, if you want me to last at all you're going to need to stop that," he warned, voice sounding strained, "It's been a long while for me as well."

"Maybe we should get the box out of the drawer," she suggested, her voice throaty. He rested back against the bed, appreciatively watching the catlike stretch of her body as she leaned over him, reaching out to retrieve the contraceptives. They sat up once she had them in her hands, opening the box, and pulling out foil squares, tearing one off. Just watching her hold it between her fingers had him gulp. He placed the box on the bedside table and watched her, mesmerized, not offering his hand to take the foil square from her.

Teresa glanced up at Patrick and was treated to an intense gaze; it became clear he was urging her to do something just by the look in his eye. She tore the edge off carefully, fingers coming into contact with lubricant and she felt her lower abdomen clench in anticipation. With the latex held between her fingers, she slowly brought it over Patrick's lap. Task completed he almost pounced on her, holding her down and pulling at her shorts. She lifted her hips up to let them slide down easier, leaving her in white cotton panties.

He watched her, tussled dark hair spread out on pillows, eyes half lidded in desire, short pants escaping her lips as it caused the rise and fall of her soft chest and belly, arms laying out beside her, palms up. He kneeled between her legs, cataloguing the sight of her lying so exposed for later safe keeping; the sight absolutely reeling. Whether she realized it or not, she was showing a trust to him, a different kind of belief in him, letting him view her as she did, no longer objecting to the light. He could fall in love with her all over again with just this, allowing him to see her this way.

Placing a hand on her stomach, he slowly pulled his palm down to rest above the delta of her thighs then turned his hand, fingers brushing lightly along her center, her thighs trying to close. She sat up against him, placing arms around his neck, her legs wrapping around his waist, pressing against his stomach to try and relieve the ache.

He hooked his thumbs into both sides of her panties and slid them down, as her legs loosened, sliding down his thighs. He slid down her legs, removing the soft cloth. He was between her knees again, opening them up, but she sat up, reaching for him. He pushed her back down, wanting to see her in her entirety, wanting to extend her trust this much further. She looked off uncomfortably as he observed her again, but allowed it. None of her previous boyfriends had done this; they had all been about getting to the sex as soon as they were able. Patrick looked upon her like she was a painting, like a finely crafted piece of art, enjoying her even though she didn't understand it. And even though she didn't fully comprehend it, something inside came loose, something akin to relief dared to spread under his loving gaze. He finally moved, leaning down and pressing a kiss just beneath her navel as she pulled him up, clearly not too comfortable with that action either. He was content to let her guide him. He kissed along her belly, moving up slowly despite her pulling hands, making stops, covering more of her skin and then continuing on. His body was fully resting on top of her when their mouths connected, she worried his bottom lip gently with the edge of her teeth before sliding her tongue in against his, her hands tracing up and down his smooth back.

Patrick brought a hand down, again wanting to touch her. She shuddered against him, thighs clenching around his hips. He gently pushed his fingers against her, her hips trying to grind into his hand. He heard her barely moan as she bit down lightly on her lower lip, eyes closed and neck exposed to him. He bent down to scrape his own teeth against her, laving his tongue against the mole that marked her pulse point. His blunt finger slid easily down and found the source of her natural lubricant. How would he ever fit in there? Women were amazing creatures, he knew, but that such a small opening could then push out a baby was beyond miraculous. He had witnessed it once before and still found it hard to believe.

She was surprisingly tight; he almost feared for her and hoped he would be able to loosen her up even as the base male was cheering him on. Six years.

She let out a small grunt, but seemed to relax, breathing heavily as he licked her throat. She was holding onto him tightly now, her fingers clenching and unclenching around his middle. He pulled his wet fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking on them as he looked down at the beauty beneath him. Teresa's eyes widened at the sight, blush blossoming on her face and body. "The cat who ate the canary" didn't even begin to describe the devilish smile on Patrick's face as he pulled his fingers slowly from his mouth.

Teresa's mouth went dry even as liquid seemed to travel to her nether region, making her shudder with anticipation. She wasn't a stranger to oral sex, but neither was she an intimate friend.

A couple boyfriends had tried it on her, but she had been uncomfortable with it, especially with the perceived loss of control, became even more self-conscious. They all eventually stopped trying; one of them even seemed relieved about it. It looked like Patrick would try someday soon if that look on his face was any indication.

The man in question broke her reverie by kissing her deeply. She tasted herself, but was not as disgusted as she thought she would be. Her hands were again moving against skin that was slowly becoming damp. She rested one hand on the middle of his back as the other sought out a certain pulsating organ. She gently grasped it and guided it closer to herself. He slowly pushed against her, their breath hitching. She wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself up to him as he started to sink in. She was convulsing around with each little push inward, writhing against him. He stopped and looked down at her; Teresa opened her eyes, wondering why he stopped when their bodies had yet to meet. She noticed the perspiration at his temples, the moisture darkening his hair. He stared into her eyes, sea green on emeralds in the dimness as he started again, finally pushing in all the way, their hips touching, bodies now pressed flush against each other.

Teresa tried to shift around to make it feel more comfortable, but his arms clenched down around her. Hands on her hips, Patrick breathed slowly in through his nose and out of his mouth, their foreheads pressed against each other. He felt that another move from her and he'd be done. Teresa stilled, receiving his silent pleas as they waited for the moment to pass.

They seemed to wait many long minutes, concept of actual time lost on them when he finally moved, kissing her again. She responded eagerly, bucking her hips slightly, testing. He slowly withdrew partway and then pushed in again, she was still so incredibly tight. They started a rhythm together, breathing becoming louder, bodies growing slick in their efforts. She started squeezing her muscles, which caused him to still again, closing his eyes tightly and concentrating. Teresa swept back his damp hair and kissed his temple. He had done more for her than anyone before him, more than she thought he could in one night, more than she imagined. She almost wished she could have waited for him, knowing how this could be and not the disappointments, the growing insecurities she had experienced before him. He had done more than enough already.

"It's okay," she whispered to him, but he refused to give in. In desperation, he slipped his hand down, fingers ghosting over her delta in a mind numbing rhythm. Teresa arched her back, closing her eyes as she held on to him. She was gyrating into his hand even after he stopped moving. Her breath rang out harshly in the bedroom. Patrick couldn't stay still for too long, and began thrusting again, hand never leaving her skin, watching as she started to slowly, almost imperceptibly, lose control. Despite his best efforts to hold out for her, he reached his peak first, body straining against hers as he shivered beneath her fingers, stroking his back, lips kissing the salty skin of his shoulder and neck. He slammed down against her with a grunt and shuddered as she continued to rub his sweat slicked body and brought a gentle hand to his brow as he slumped down against her. She was certain it was over, but she didn't mind it at all, not with Patrick, not when he made her feel so warm and loved throughout.

It was after a moment's rest, still connected that she gasped unexpectedly, realizing her pleasure filled haze that Patrick brought his hand back down and was now moving his fingers expertly over her heat. He continued to rub her until finally her body stiffened as well, her head rolling back as she let out a small sound, felt him twitch inside of her as she shuddered and tightened around him. He didn't abate after, didn't even think of parting with her, the image of her now too mesmerizing to consider stopping.

Thus, he continued to gently rub her causing a second wave of unexpected pleasure to wash over her, leaving her a heaving and exhausted mess on the bed. Teresa realized that a tear had collected in the corner of her eye, but she was far from feeling an inch of sadness. It was a completeness she hadn't felt before. He finally pulled out of her, removing the condom and laboriously rolling over her to make sure it fell into the waste basket near the bed. Having accomplished that, he seemed to melt into the mattress as well, letting their bodies cool off for a while before moving one last time to pull up the covers that had been pushed down to the foot of the bed. Teresa rolled over onto him, her leg over his; arm around his chest as she placed a soft kiss on his lips then snuggled down into his shoulder.

"If that lamp burns my shirt, I'll burn your suits."

His eyes opened tiredly and she let out a weary laugh, patting him on the chest then rising above him to turn off the lamp. She settled back down against his side and Patrick kissed the top of her head, turning on his side to wrap his arms around her.


	20. Chapter 19

**Author's Notes:** Thank you to yaba and the brave souls who read and reviewed Chapter 18, I know I'd be embarrassed to lol!

Ebony10 (I loved that bit too, lights vs. couch hmmm, tough decision lol!), mwalter1 (and of course Jane would have something cheeky to say even during such an intimate moment… I'm sure Lisbon appreciated that :-P), lisbon69 (Glad you approve, your words flatter me, they are like ice cream in my belly lol! Maybe not a good comparison…), Simonisthecuttestmentalist (A double thank you! I can't believe you bothered to leave a comment for both versions, very much appreciated.), MK (Yah, I know what you mean about the cold shower… Glad that part's over with, it caused me a lot of anxiety wondering if I should or shouldn't write it much less post it up. Seriously? You have my story saved in multiple? Wow, that is… crazy. I'm glad you love it so much to have many backup copies, it makes me want to print and bind books.)

Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 19**

Teresa woke up slowly, sensing light and warmth, and gradually detecting the soreness in between her thighs. Gingerly, she stretched, trying to see if that would give her some relief or at least assess the damage. She was lying on her back, Patrick's body resting next to her, his arm thrown over her stomach. Opening her eyes, she turned her head to see Patrick's chest, light glinting off the few hairs. Did he wax? She looked up to see his head bent towards her, apparently sleeping still. His face was relaxed, almost devoid of its many creases, smile, laugh, and occasional worry lines. She wondered if he had so many lines before Red John.

Sometime during the night, the covers had slid down to her hips, not leaving her particularly chilled, but just a degree or two below what she was used to since she wasn't used to sleeping in the nude. Mundane thoughts entered her still sleepy brain as she pulled the comforter up: she needs to wash these sheets, who would make breakfast, what day is it? Sunday. She totally relaxed remembering this was a three day weekend.

Teresa turned away from Patrick, wiggling back into him, drawing his arm up around hers, bending her head to kiss his forearm, the hairs tickling her lips. She felt his arm tighten slightly around her and heard him breathe in deeply then yawn, his chest moving against her upper back.

"Good morning," he rumbled. She felt his hand move against her, gently fondling her stomach, his fingers alternating between a rolling pressing motion like a cat massage and splaying fingers against the slightly soft area. She wondered at his seeming obsession with her stomach.

"Good morning," she replied, sighing blissfully. As he kissed the back of her shoulder, she wondered if he had just discovered the rather noticeable discoloration there, the skin a few shades darker, another scar, this one almost the size of her palm. At least it was smooth.

Teresa had thought she accepted her wounds, easy to ignore when you lived alone with them, but sharing them with someone, especially with Patrick, made her realize it was just the opposite. She felt the light scratching of Patrick's unshaven chin as he settled his cheek up against her head. His hand drifted low, resting just above her intimate place.

"Sore?"

"A little."

She placed a hand over his, stopping it from descending. She was certain he was about to start massaging, regardless if the intention was innocent or much more… affectionate, she was fine staying still in his arms. There was pressure building in her bladder, however, and she needed to leave the bed soon. She was not looking forward to that. Lying in bed naked was somehow different than standing naked, or walking naked, when there was an observer. It was also morning and leaving the bed after the night they had could somehow break the enchantment of it. Well, there was nothing enchanting about fact that she needed to use the facilities…

Making her decision, Teresa sat up and slid out from under Patrick's arm and out of the bed, hurriedly making her way out of the room with Patrick staring after her. She closed the bedroom door behind her. He could hear her padding footfalls down the hall, the clicking of the bathroom light switch, and closing of the door.

Patrick raised his arms above his head and stretched, rolling onto his back, his face scrunching up with a grimace before relaxing again. His stomach grumbled then, something that didn't happen often and he blamed it on the fact that he'd expended some energy the night before. He smiled a moment, but it faded. He knew Teresa didn't think any less of him for not being able to hold out, was in fact surprised that even after he had reached his peak, he continued on until she finished as well. He felt disappointed in himself and her previous boyfriends who apparently hadn't been decent enough to give her completion despite their own states.

Well, he could look forward to increasing his stamina with her. He was out of practice, but planned to change that as soon as possible. He heard the shower running and a wolfish grin stole over his features, but it toned down. No, she was sore, it was too soon. They could try to conserve water together another day.

***

While showering, Teresa heard the slight creak and padding of Patrick's feet nearing the bathroom. Her heart started hammering as she wondered if he would enter, but then she could hear the sounds dissipate, clearly going downstairs. She let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, both relieved and disappointed, and then embarrassed at her thoughts.

When she returned to the bedroom, towel wrapped around her body, she found that Patrick had made the bed, well, more like straightened the sheets, nothing was tucked in. The effort made her smile. She would have to pull it apart anyway; those sheets _had_ to be washed. She dropped her towel and smiled to herself as she contemplated what to wear.

After changing, she opened a window, inhaling the fresh morning air and letting it filter into the room before heading down. She found Patrick staring mindlessly at the television. What caught her attention was the fact that he only wore his boxers while doing so, sitting on the couch and eating a bowl of cereal. She had never seen him do that before. He turned to her and she saw his eyes light up even as he held his spoon midair. He put the spoon back in the bowl, smiling at her.

"I was wondering when that would reappear," he said, referring to The Jersey. He set the bowl down on the coffee table and stood, taking the few steps necessary to get to her.

"I never took you as the type to lounge around in your underwear," she commented, resting a hand against his chest, a small flirty smile on her face, a smile that Jane reciprocated unabashedly as he wrapped his arms around her, gaze stealing over her body and legs.

He shrugged, "You've seen it all."

Their lips met briefly, then Lisbon pulled away, looking up at him, "Is there still cereal?"

Jane didn't sigh, but smiled ruefully, clearly their thoughts were in different places. All thoughts of eating had flown from his mind when he saw her… well, eating cereal in any case. He pecked her on the lips then pulled away, back to the couch, "Yes, there's still some in the box."

He had finished his bowl when she joined him on the couch, her own bowl of cereal in her hands. Jane threw an arm around her shoulders as she ate. She glanced over at him, at his chest.

"Yes?" he asked.

She glanced up at him, gauging what his possible reaction might be then finally asked, "Do you shave your chest?"

He grinned and rolled his eyes, "That fascinated by it, are you?"

Her fingertips stroked down the center of his chest, "I was just wondering."

"Hm," he grunted, playing with the ends of her hair, "no, I do not take part in 'manscaping'. All natural."

She raised an eyebrow, looking up at him with a rather skeptical grin, "This from a man who probably uses more products in his hair than I do, looks like he gets manicures-"

"Hey, nothing wrong with taking care of myself," he defended, though amused by her accusations.

"And speaking of 'taking care' of yourself, you need to shower," she said, removing his arm from around her shoulders, wrinkling her nose.

Jane's eyebrows raised, "Are you telling me you think I stink now? That is quite an egregious accusation. My honor can be slandered only so much."

He was leaning in over her, Lisbon pressed herself into the couch, her breath catching at the wicked glint in his eyes, "Patrick, don't make me spill my cereal."

"But then you can join me in the shower," he purred, he had her right where he wanted her. She was breathing quicker, pupils dilated, eyes closing in anticipation.

He kissed her on her forehead and got up from the couch.

Lisbon's eyes flew wide open. Startled, but not amused by the turn of events, she sat up and watched as Jane walked away, a satisfied grin on his face, "Hey, where're you going?"

"I'm off to take a shower like you so pointedly suggested," he winked at her.

Her mouth fell open, but she didn't know what to say.

***

Jane returned clean and refreshed fifteen minutes later, now wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt. It appeared that Lisbon was preparing cinnamon rolls again; she hadn't made any in the past month since they had been so busy with work. She seemed to be ignoring his approach, he knew she was trying to deny the sexual desire she had felt when he had left for his shower, was annoyed with him because of it. Therefore, she was working out her frustrations by baking.

Jane leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head away, dodging his efforts. He smirked then wrapped his arms around her body from behind. In turn, Teresa stiffened for a moment but ultimately relented, letting her body relax and mold into his as he kissed the crook of her neck. There was no use being mad at him at this point. He hadn't really done anything other than tease her. She closed her eyes briefly, savoring the beautiful simplicity of this moment.

Teresa wanted to thank him for the care he showed for her the previous night. The words weren't forthcoming though, so instead she simply leaned back and turned her head, his mouth surprised hers in a lingering kiss. She drew back, giving him a coy smile and returned her concentration to the task at hand. Patrick watched how her dark lashes fanned against her freckled, yet somewhat pale cheeks as she looked down at the mixing bowl. He leaned over and kissed her cheek before letting go and returning to the couch, grabbing a crossword puzzle book off of the coffee table on the way.

Jane was trying to discern a ten letter word which meant "deliberately affected; dramatic" when warm cinnamon tantalized his nose. He looked up, Lisbon wiping down the counter top, after washing and putting away all the baking implements, rolls already in the oven. She removed the apron, tossing it over a chair, and walked towards him, his eyes darting to the edge of her jersey, which barley grazed the top of her toned thighs.

The blond raised his left arm up, allowing Lisbon to sit next to him, tucking her legs up as she leaned into his side. He rested his arm down around her shoulders, squeezing her upper arm lightly before returning his attention to the crossword. Teresa sat quietly contented, turning her head to press her nose into his shirt, inhaling his slightly spiced, but warm masculine scent, finding it more comforting than her own bed. Her arms were slightly tired from kneading and rolling out the dough, it was also just one of those lazy days, assisted by the fact that the next day would also be a work free one. Patrick absentmindedly caressed her bicep and shoulder, fingers running over the somewhat slick polyester material of the black jersey.

"If someone told you a year ago that you would one day willingly cuddle up against me-" Patrick began, disrupting the peaceful silence in the home.

"I would have laughed," she answered, smiling self-deprecatingly.

"Hmmm," he hummed, turning his head towards her, "I somehow doubt you would have let them off with just a laugh. I'm more inclined to believe you'd eat them alive after flaying them, but that would all depend on who suggested such nonsense."

"Yah, an outright delusion," she agreed half seriously, grinning up at him. He kissed the side of her mouth. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into the side of his chest again, rubbing her face against him in an almost feline way.

An artificial chirping broke through their lethargic haze, signaling that a text message had been received by Teresa's cell phone. They sat still, neither saying a word. Teresa finally sighed, no longer able to ignore her own curiosity. She pulled herself up from Patrick's side, crossing the room to the dining table to retrieve her phone.

"Your brother?" Jane asked, reading her body language.

"John-John," she said, sounding surprised, walking back with the phone.

"It's about me," Patrick confidently stated.

"At work when _isn't_ it about you? But at home…" she trailed off, sitting down again, "Not everything is about you. It just says to give him a call when I have the chance."

"No time like the present," he pointed out. She looked up from her phone to him, a sardonic smile pulling at her lips.

"You just want to know if you're right," she said.

He gave her a sunny smile, not denying it.

"Fine, I'll call him."

She dialed and waited, the phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Hey John-John, just got your message, how are you doing?" she asked, a warm smile automatically in place.

"_I'm fine,"_ he answered quietly. The siblings didn't often speak to each other as the middle brother was a quiet man by nature, words usually not needed in each other's presence. Phone conversations with each other were few and far between.

"How are the kids?" she continued, wondering why he wanted her to call when he wasn't very talkative.

"_They're fine,"_ he answered. Then, perhaps after realizing he'd been the one to ask Lisbon to call, added, _"Marina joined hockey."_

"That's great, has she played any games yet?"

Teresa latched onto the subject.

"_Yah, she's a tough one, we've taken to calling her 'Mini Tessa',"_ the father added warmly, _"She got sent to the penalty box her second game."_

"I'm not sure if I should be proud or offended," she joked, shaking her head. Marina, John-John's ten-year-old daughter, was the first child born to any of the Lisbon brothers. The men had joked they would name their first child after her, but she absolutely refused their half joking offer, waving it off, telling them it would be weird to name a child after their living aunt. Of course, two years later, Mikey had his first child, Terrance, named in her honor. She didn't know if she should yell at Mikey for doing that, or hug his wife Sue for allowing it.

"How's the band doing? And if you answer 'it's fine' I'm going to hang up," she said wryly, leaving back into the sofa cushion, Patrick's hand massaging the back of her neck.

There was a pause on her brother's end, making it clear that he had in fact intended to say those very words. He finally spoke, _"We got booked at a few clubs around town."_

"Anything new?" she pressed. She loved her brother, but he just wasn't a great conversationalist, the fact he had asked for her to call was intriguing.

"_Are you at home?"_ he asked.

"Yes?" she answered quizzically, urging his continuance.

"_Patrick there?"_

She looked over at the man sitting beside her, he had an "I told you so" cheeky grin.

"Why?" she asked, turning her head to face in front of her again, eyebrows furrowing.

"_You're living together,"_ simply stated, as if affirming a fact, leaving Lisbon speechless.

"What does that have anything to with anything?" she asked, slightly defensive, denial had crossed her mind, but she didn't feel justified in denying it, why should she? She was the older sister, she could do what she wanted, at least privately. She tucked her free arm against her chest, Patrick running a soothing hand up her neck and down her shoulder.

"_We wanted to know if he'd be coming over for Thanksgiving,"_ John-John said plainly.

Lisbon's mouth hung slightly ajar, it was unexpected to say the least, "Well, that's, that's like two months away, I don't even know-"

"I'd be delighted," Jane spoke over her, mirthful smile in place. She shot him a partially helpless, partially frustrated look. Then, she took the phone away from her ear and covered the mouthpiece with her other hand.

"Patrick, we don't know if we can make it, I was just planning on going for Christmas break," she whispered to him.

"So you're not opposed to me going?" he asked hopefully.

"What? I didn't say that," she backpedaled, but seeing the look on his face, she sighed through her nose, not willing to go to battle over this one. Might as well let him come along, he'd probably book a flight out east and find her anyway, "Fine- but," she added, giving him a firm look even as the elation on his face was already melting her resolve, "this is my family, you _will_ behave. No hypnotizing my brothers, the kids, no riling up the locals. I am not above kicking you out into the street. I _will_ banish you from any and all Lisbon households until the end of the holidays if you so much as _look_ the wrong way at any possible thing that could help you in your escapades."

"By using the word 'escapades' you really make it sound fun. I bet you want me to get into some trouble you can help me out of. We're the perfect team in that way," he enjoyed the hardened look she was giving him.

"Jane," she said warningly.

"Cross my heart, I will not intentionally cause harm to your loved ones," he promised, motioning an "X" over his chest.

"And the locals," she stressed.

"Or the locals," he added, kissing her nose just to see her scrunch her face. She gave him a sharp look.

"John-John? You still there?"

"_So he's coming?"_

"Unfortunately…"

"_Good,"_ came the short, satisfied response. Lisbon was already dreading the family gathering that was to come. She could imagine her brothers' incessant teasing even as they sized up Patrick again, now knowing they were in a relationship. She needed to whack Mikey upside the head for being a blabbermouth. Sue would probably give her encouraging and knowing eyes, and the children might very well fawn over Patrick as he would likely perform tricks for them. She did not need the inevitable pressure.

On the other hand, she could just imagine Patrick with her three brothers, crowded into Mikey's living room, watching the game, beers in their hands as they joked around. Sue and she would sit to the side and making conversation amongst themselves as they watched the men and the children. No more pitying looks.

"_Stay safe," _John-John said, his customary goodbye to her.

"Miss you too," she replied, disconnecting the call.

Teresa looked up at Patrick, who was still smiling. He pulled her in, kissing the top of her head and rubbing up and down her arm.

"Fantastic," she said sarcastically.

"Yes it is," he said, amused.

"You barely met them and they already love you. What did you do while I was in that coma?" she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed at him warily.

"Nothing, I only stayed by your side faithfully, found your key to let Michael in here," he said, playfully nipping at her neck. She squirmed away, leaning back.

"Patrick, don't do that," she warned, hand held out to his chest.

"Do what?" he asked innocently, eyes dancing, "Do this?"

He ran his fingers up her side, causing her to collapse onto the couch in a fit of giggles, trying to slide away and off of the cushions.

"Stop! I'm serious!" Lisbon almost shrieked, trying to push his hands away even as they instinctively tried to cover her sides. She was laughing and couldn't get away. Suddenly pinned down, she felt his hot breath on her neck, teeth grazing the delicate skin there, tongue flicking up, causing her to shudder. She pulled him tightly to her, resting her chin on his shoulder, holding him still. He slowly kissed the nape of her neck, pulling her up to seat her on his lap.

The buzzing of her kitchen timer went off.

Peeling herself off of him, she went to frost the cinnamon rolls, the living area air already inundated with the sweet smell of freshly baked bread and warm cinnamon. He would eradicate most of her misgivings, because what fun would there be if he got rid of them all?


	21. Chapter 20

**Author's Notes:** Sorry about the long wait before posting, I got caught up with life. I am alive! I had spring break and decided to bust out the quilt I started in college and also am in the last stages of the story (in a few more chapters) and am experiencing writer's block. I know the general way I want to end this story, but the details are hard pressed to come out and type themselves. Also break ended and I had my first week back to work this week, so a crazy couple of weeks.

Anyway, thank you Yana for your continual hard work! Thank you readers and especially those of you who left a comment! They brighten my day!

lisbon69 (Ah cats, they do what they want and somehow allow us to have their presence in our lives… lol! Wow, glad to hear various people keeping my story safe, I'll be going to you guys if ever my computer crashes. Let's keep our fingers crossed and pray that doesn't happen…), LaFemmeQuiRit (First time reviewer I believe, thank you so much for taking the time to do so!), mwalter1 , MK (Oh, you can continue to tell me how much you like this story lol! Geez, can you imagine having Jane in your family? Just think of what could happen "Is Aunt Martha dead?!" "No, no, she's just in a trance, she wouldn't leave Patrick alone and kept going on and on…"), Country2776 (Thank you!), lisbonloafers (Ah school, somehow I can never get away from school. Thanks for taking the time to read this.), Ebony10 (No inner musings about the stomach thing has been written, weird isn't it?), Americanchick (Sorry it took so long to update!), Hikaru Ceres (I only recognized "The Music of the Night" in your short list. I'll have to look up those others sometime. Have you ever read while listening to music and find the perfect one playing just as you read a certain part? It's happened to me before, it was just a perfect coincidence.), crimsonpirate (Thanks for commenting! Actually one chapter was rated "M" and the other "T+", not K, omg if it was mistaken as "K" that would be horrible! I didn't change it too much, just edited out a few details. I'm glad you thought the chapter was somewhat realistic.), Simonisthecuttestmentalist (Sorry, I have left you hanging for so long! I grovel before you and all the other readers! :-P)

Thank you all for your support!

**Chapter 20**

Monday morning Teresa awoke much like Sunday morning, warm and content… but also a bit sore. The previous night, despite not being fully recovered from their new bed activities, she had pounced on Jane as soon as the lights went out. He hadn't been completely surprised, noting the change in her mood prior, the too obvious disinterest to cover up her actual interest. Still, there was a tiny amount of surprise when she actually following through on her more than pleasant plans for him.

Teresa didn't blush, per say, at the thoughts of the previous evening, but she did feel warmer. The dark was her domain, at least in bed. She hadn't thought about being confident so much as she wanted Patrick, wanted to please him, in turn pleasing herself with her accomplishment, not to say there weren't more than a few tentative moments as she explored the waters of their sexual relationship.

Memories of hot and wet mouths colliding, the slapping of sweaty misted skin, the groans… okay, she was blushing now. Last night was more about gratifying their bodies, Patrick allowing her control, which made her more comfortable. When she came down in shaking relief, he was there to hold her, sooth her heated, aching body with gentle hands and lips.

Teresa turned in bed to face Patrick to find him already awake, flecks of light bouncing off of the stubble on his chin and about his smile-deepened laugh lines. The arm around her tightened, pulling her against his bare chest, eyes closing in a soft kiss.

"Good morning," he grumbled in a sleep roughened voice, the intimate sound vibrating through her eardrums and body. It was a voice only she would get to enjoy in the privacy of their bed.

"Good morning," she replied, closing her eyes again, just soaking in everything from the comforting smell of her pillow to the weight of his arm around her. Then she sighed; tomorrow is the start of the work week, though if all goes well, it will stay the four day week it is intended to be with no overtime on the weekends. They were salaried workers; they didn't receive overtime wages, but did rack up vacation days they had to use before the end of the year. Government workers usually had weekends and holidays off, but law enforcement was a different matter. Crime didn't have weekends.

Teresa opened her eyes again. She moved her leg over his, running her foot along his inner calf, causing Patrick to shoot her an instantly smoldering look.

"You know," he said conversationally, as he pulled her in closer, their noses almost touching, his voice becoming a purring whisper, "it's not nice to tease a man in the morning after satiating him… completely."

His hand was lightly tracing up her spine, her skin shivered, lust heightened. She had rarely engaged someone in morning antics such as this; she blamed it on a honeymoon mentality of their weekend, finally consummating their relationship only two nights ago. She couldn't quite ignore the sore nether region though, flushing in embarrassment for starting something she wasn't sure she'd be able to complete.

Patrick chuckled deep in his throat, kissing her lightly, then rolling onto his back, pulling her with him, "You are so easy to read."

Teresa bristled a moment, defenses kicking in, but forced herself to stay calm. Patrick was lazily rubbing her back, running his hand down her side and hip before returning again. She laid her head down against his shoulder, breathing into his neck, warming the end of her nose against his skin.

"You know," he started huskily, sending Teresa on guard with those words, "there are other ways to please each other without me having to… enter..."

She couldn't speak and didn't dare to. It was only the morning. She shook her head against his shoulder as he continued his soothing stroking of her back.

"You act so shy this morning, where did last night's vixen go?" he joked, humored by her bashfulness, one of her many attributes he loved. The tough as nails cop turned agent who could tackle men more than twice her size, walk into grisly crime scenes, capable of being a sex kitten, but still shy and embarrassed about many other aspects when it came to her personal life.

"You are a very darling woman," he told her, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"And you're a nice guy," she finally said, then added drily, "when you're not being a pain in the ass."

Her spine whipped straight after a sound smack to her bottom caught her off guard. Teresa pushed herself up, glaring down at Patrick who had on a cheeky grin, "Just fulfilling expectations."

She shoved at his side, startling him with her strength as he was pushed close to the edge of the bed, his arms and legs shooting out, trying to get a grip on the mattress and headboard. Teresa had crossed her arms in front of her bare chest, a satisfied smirk in place. The look of alarm, splayed limbs gripping onto any available surface, and messy covers made her wish for a picture. It was difficult to visibly surprise Patrick Jane.

He straightened himself out slowly and cleared his throat, sounding rather diplomatic, "Well then, I think I'll just go take a shower now."

***

Jane and Lisbon went for a walk around the neighborhood after breakfast. The leaves had started to suggest a change, a few brittle ones littering the ground and gutters. The trees were still predominantly green, but in a few more weeks they would be of many colors, officially announcing autumn's arrival. As it was, the rain fall was increasing in small increments, leaving the air in a palpable chill for those living in southern California, even though the drop in temperature was only a few degrees.

The sky was blue, but they could see the murky grey in the distance as hazy clouds threatened to make their way. It would probably rain by nightfall.

The corner of Jane's lips lifted as he caught Lisbon glancing at his arm. He wondered how long it would take her to muster up the nerve. She went for it, looking down to the side away from him as she slid her arm around his. He pulled his hand out of his pocket as her hand found its target, interlacing their fingers. It took considerably less time than before from the moment he noticed her glances to the execution of her plan. He gripped her hand in a light squeeze; she looked up at him with a small smile then looked ahead, their joined hands swinging lightly between them.

***

The rain hit the window panes in a steady rhythm, the outdoors was dark and dull when Jane and Lisbon turned in for bed. The sheets smelled of fabric softener after being washed earlier that day after their walk. Teresa wore The Jersey to bed that night, snuggling up against Patrick, an arm thrown over his chest as they gave each other a goodnight kiss and she rested her head on his shoulder. Patrick subtly took in her scent, which smelled faintly of her shampoo and that warm unidentifiable feminine Teresa.

Their weekend was over and they would be returning to the office the next morning. Patrick braced himself for the next work day. This weekend, there was a drastic change to their relationship and yet it was the same in other ways. He knew that he had to keep up the charade of them being nothing more than coworkers, but it would be difficult. He was capable of putting on a mask, as was Teresa, but he also knew that Teresa may overdo it just a bit in attempts to conceal her developed affection towards him, to prove to the others that they were not any more than a supervising agent and consultant who happened to banter.

He turned onto his side, wrapping his left arm around her body and felt her move, looking up at him inquisitively in the dark. He pressed his lips against the crown of her head and encouraged her silently to rest her head against him again, tucking it under his chin. He felt her warm hand rubbing his back in slow circles through his shirt and let out a sigh, rubbing his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes. He was being so obvious that even Teresa picked up on his mild anxiety.

In this home was the truth of their relationship, he would have to remember that.

***

Tuesday morning after everyone (except Jane) had settled into their desk areas the usual checking of e-mail ensued. By ten Cho already had a book out, Rigsby had worked up the nerve to sneak another yogurt drink out of the break room, and Van Pelt was studiously staring at her computer screen… running a virus check for lack of anything else to do at the moment. The mail cart came around, a different mailroom boy than they had several months ago. Lisbon hadn't put much thought into it, but recalled a vaguely satisfied smile on Jane's face when the new mail runner took over.

Lisbon's head came up when she heard a rapping at her door.

"Come in," she called out. The mail runner came in with a large manila envelope, setting it in her inbox basket.

"Thanks."

The door clicked shut; Lisbon completed her e-mail message and then looked curiously at the large envelope, picked it up and found only her name on it. She turned it over to find the other side blank as well. She cut open the top with a letter opener and poured out the contents. Her stomach dropped as a chill of dread spread within her. There were pictures of her and Patrick walking, holding hands, of them entering her home together. As she spread them out, almost frantically, she found a white sheet, it's printed words of "I know" the first thing she saw.

She stilled the trembling in her hands as if the note would see and straightened it to read. The twelve point Times New Roman font read:

_I know you are involved with Patrick Jane, your team consultant. A copy of these photos will be sent to Virgil Minelli. Submit a letter of resignation by the end of tomorrow and Minelli will never know._

When Lisbon finished reading, she didn't know what to think. She almost wanted to laugh. In fact, she was laughing. Who the hell sent a "threat" like this? It could put a slight damper on her career, but it didn't say they wanted money, didn't threaten her life, just wanted her to resign so that Minelli wouldn't find out about her personal relationship with Jane. It was absurd. Was this a joke?

"Knock, knock."

Lisbon looked up to see Jane walking in, closing the door behind him, "A secret admirer?"

"Hardly," she scoffed, hesitated a moment, then motioned him to her desk, handing him the note.

Jane reached out and accepted the paper, leaned over her desk, eyebrows rising, "Hm."

He read the note, mouth downturned slightly in concentration, no doubt trying to profile the author of it.

"Quite perplexing," he finally commented, setting the paper down, picking up the photos next, "You know, these aren't too bad, we could put them in an album."

"An album of creepiness," Lisbon quipped, eyebrows furrowed, "Who do you think did this? When I got the call from this guy Grace traced it to the payphone in the lobby, they know our names and Minelli's, which I guess isn't too hard to find out, but still."

"We could have the team work on this," Jane suggested, picking out a picture and placing the rest back on her desk. The picture was the moment Lisbon had looked up at him with a shy smile after she placed her hand in his yesterday. It was a good picture were it not for the fact it was taken by a stalker.

"No, we can't do that, this is a personal matter and it would an abuse of my power," Lisbon immediately answered.

Jane looked up from the picture to her, "It's not like they're doing anything else out there, they're bored out of their minds and would love to do this for us."

Lisbon looked down at the pictures before her, appearing to mull something over. She placed a finger on the corner of one of the pictures, straightening it. When she finally looked up, Jane saw that the worry lines had smoothed out, eyes startlingly clear. He knew what she had decided and knew he wouldn't like it.

"Teresa-"

"Jane, I'm going to talk to Minelli. You don't have to come with me if you don't want to, but this was something I should have done as soon as I agreed to start dating you. I was remiss in my duties to do so."

"Teresa, you don't have to do this," Jane argued, blocking her exit from behind the desk. She had stood up from her chair, "The team has long suspected our relationship and wouldn't do anything, they'd support us in fact. We can go find out who sent these to you and take care of it and it'd stay within the team."

"Jane, get out of the way. I think you knew this day was coming. We can't avoid it anymore. Minelli will likely put you with another unit and all will be fine."

"I refuse to move," he said petulantly, arms out to keep her from squeezing past him, "The note said we have until tomorrow, we can do this."

Lisbon stood, arms crossed over her chest, staring up at him, almost pityingly, "Jane, move. I'm sure that whatever unit you get moved to they'll let you bring the couch down with you."

He stared at her, knowing that short of hypnotizing her to buy some more time that what she wanted to do was inevitable. He didn't want to leave _her_ team, he wanted to be able to see her every day, not just at home, but at work, be able to see her office from his couch, be in on everything that was going on with her. He saw her glance over through the windows, and then looked at him again, her face softening. She lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Patrick, you have to let me do this. You are welcome to come with me, but whether you do or not, this will happen. We will still be in the same building; we'd be able to drive in together after this, no more secrets from the team. Being able to be open about this would be a huge relief, you know that," she told him gently, giving his shoulder a light squeeze.

Patrick slowly lowered his arms. He knew he couldn't change her mind any more than he could stop loving her, even if he hated this decision. He quietly stepped aside and Teresa moved, pausing in front of him. She stretched up and kissed his cheek, a hand on his chest. When she stepped away from him, a kind smile graced her features. He saw the tired look in her eyes, but also something seemed to be lifted in her as she strode out. He watched her walk out then spotted a surprised Van Pelt standing outside, files held against her chest, a slight blush evident on her cheeks. Jane mustered up a smile and waved at her.

***

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

Lisbon was in Minelli's office, the door and window blinds closed. She had just informed him that she and Jane were in a relationship outside the office and he had told her "no".

"Sir, Jane and I-"

"Stop right there," he ordered from his seat behind his desk. He had fingers on the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as if he was starting to have a headache, "I don't want to hear this."

Lisbon stepped up to the desk, placing her palms on the edge of it as she leaned down and spoke, "Virgil, I'm serious."

He looked up, blue eyes staring into her green ones, "I'm serious too Teresa. I don't want to hear this."

She stood up, arms falling to her side as she looked away in exasperation, "I apologize for going against the non-fraternization regulations; I also apologize on Jane's behalf-"

Minelli snorted, "Yah, I'm sure."

She rolled her eyes then looked straight at him again, "Sir, we broke the rules and are prepared to accept the proper punishment for our misconduct."

Minelli let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his short salt and pepper hair. After a moment, having collected his thoughts, his sharp blue eyes trained on her again, "Lisbon, do you realize the difficult position you've placed me in?"

"Sir?" she asked confused, her eyebrows furrowed.

Minelli leaned forward, resting his forearms against the top of his desk, clasping his hands together, "What unit could Jane possibly go to? He didn't listen to a single supervising agent until he was placed in your team, albeit listening to you isn't his favorite pastime, but he does, to a degree, listen to you. If you two are… what you say you are, what is the chance he's going to voluntarily listen to anyone else?"

Lisbon tried to keep herself calm; she was starting to wonder if she may have lost Jane his job.

"If I try to move him to another unit, he'll probably stay with your group anyway, or compromise a case to get what he wants, you know he will."

Lisbon shook her head, "No, I'll talk to him. I told him I would tell you, he knows I had to."

"Teresa, do you honestly believe he could 'play nice' with any other unit?" Minelli asked, awaiting her answer.

Lisbon stared at him for a moment, then finally looked down at the floor, swallowing.

"I didn't think so," Minelli said, sitting up in his chair again, dragging a hand across his face, "He closes case, he's great to have around, it's because he's such a great asset to us that I didn't fire him when he didn't work well with the first three supervising agents I sent him to before he was placed with you. I won't fire him, but I also know that I can't place him with another unit without him acting out or simply refusing. Does anyone know about you two?"

"Um, maybe my team knows," she said quietly, then looked up at him, a grim frown tainting her features, "Also I received threats from someone saying they'll tell you, which I don't see how that will affect that person."

Minelli looked concerned, "What about this threat? When did you get it?"

"There was a phone call a while back, then this morning I got an envelope with pictures of me and Jane together at home," she told him, slightly embarrassed to share even that much of her personal life.

"What did they want?"

"My resignation, didn't mention anything about money or threat to my life, it was just blackmail for me to quit my job here," she told him walking over to his outside window.

" 'Just blackmail'?" he asked disbelievingly, "There's no such thing as 'just blackmail'."

"Well, I don't plan to resign and unless there's a proven threat to my life the best I could do was just be truthful and confess. There's nothing to threaten me with now," she reasoned, looking back at him, backlit by the sunlight.

Minelli leaned back in his chair again, massaging his forehead a moment, eyes closed before dropping his hand and looking up at her again, "I'm not going to transfer Jane, which is going to be difficult to explain since I'm guessing the office rumor mill will probably find out about your relationship if they haven't already. Who knows, maybe the person who's threatening you may post the pictures up tomorrow," he paused, forehead crinkling, he cleared his throat and couldn't quite look her in the eye, "The pictures, they weren't ah… compromising, were they?"

Lisbon looked at him quizzically for a moment then jerked up in sudden understanding, "Oh no sir! Nothing like that, just us holding hands, walking, and going into my house."

"Uh, good. We'll hope that's all this person has, um, sorry," he said awkwardly, glancing up at her.

"No, I didn't even think about that," she replied.

"Well then," he cleared his throat again, pretending they hadn't just talked the last few seconds, "I will need to take some sort of action that will sufficiently appease the others. Jane could quit, though I doubt that will happen. You could see about extracting a promise he will keep to work with a new unit…" seeing the look on Lisbon's face he continued on, "I didn't think so either… Suspending you two really doesn't solve the problem since we'll be back at square one when you return… Why can't you just let me pretend none of this happened?"

Lisbon's mouth quirked up in amusement.

Minelli threw his hands up, "You know? To hell with it! As long as you two can keep being professional, or for Jane his standard, while you're at the office and on official business, I'm just going to let this be. What's the point of being the boss if I can't make decisions like this?"

Lisbon's eyes widened in disbelief, not sure if she actually heard what he had just said, "Sir? Do you really mean that? What about regulations?"

"Screw them. Besides, he's a non-armed consultant; it shouldn't affect your team dynamics since he officially isn't supposed to be in danger like the rest of your team. My official stance is that you two are professionals and know not to let your personal lives interfere with work, am I clear on that?" he gave her a hard look, almost daring her to disagree.

Lisbon pressed her lips together and nodded, "Yes sir, thank you."

He stood up and walked towards his door, opening it and signaling her out. She stayed in her spot a moment longer then walked to him, placing her arms around his age softened body and pecked him on the cheek, hurriedly walking away. He stared shocked at her retreating backside, a hand placed on his cheek thoughtfully.


	22. Chapter 21

**Author's Notes:** Thank you Yana and all! Looks like people really liked Minelli in the last chapter.

xxxBekaForEvaxxx, Americanchick, lisbon69 (You'll find out soon…), mwalter1, fan of mentalist, Hikaru Ceres (Thanks for the info on the music, I watched The Mirror has Two Faces, how long ago was that? It feels like forever ago. I still haven't gotten around to writing, we're getting to the cut off soon of what I've written up to so far.), MK (I wouldn't wish Jane upon anyone lol! He can just be horrible as a coworker.), Simonisthecuttestmentalist (Not sure about another M rated chapter, but you can hope for one if you'd like. ;-), Ebony10

**Chapter 21**

For a CBI agent, Jimmy Nortin was nothing special. He came in on time to work every morning and packed up to leave as soon as the office time was over (when not on a late night case). He had short brown hair, ordinary features, and was of average build. His black wire frame glasses were the only distinguishing thing about him. He did what was expected of him, but rarely was able to do more than that. Even his marriage was nothing stellar. He and his wife were obviously not in love any more, but they rarely fought, just lived with each other as was… expected.

Jane leaned a shoulder against the wall, looking as relaxed as he always did. He narrowed his eyes at Agent Nortin. The agent was straightening his desk area, getting ready to leave. Jane blanked his face and made his way to Jimmy Nortin's side.

"Hey, Agent Nortin, I know you're ready to go home, but they sent me down here to get your assistance with an interrogation. You mind?" Jane asked sincerely. The agent looked up at him in surprise, a brief moment of panic flickered in his eyes before being covered by the anticipation of being asked to help. Though he was an average agent, he did want attention; he wanted to know he was useful and wanted.

He fell easily into Jane's trap.

"Uh, sure," Nortin answered, straightening his navy tie and following Jane to the interrogation rooms.

"Room two," Jane pointed out, allowing Nortin to go before him.

Seeing the room empty of suspects or otherwise, Nortin turned around to face Jane in confusion, "Are they in another room?"

Jane closed the door behind him, a seemingly pleasant smile on his face, "Maybe they went to get a snack, why don't you take a seat? We'll only have to wait a couple minutes, I'm certain."

Nortin hesitated, but Jane seemed confident so he followed directions and sat down on a chair to wait.

"I'm sure you had a long day, you must be tired," Jane said as he remained standing.

"Well, I suppose," the agent shrugged, "There wasn't much for me to do today, just some paperwork and looking over old cases."

Jane nodded understandingly then rested a hip against the table, facing Nortin, "Lots of paperwork to do around here, in fact Lisbon, you know, senior agent of SCU? Well, she is always working on all sorts of reports. Of course, it doesn't help with all the trouble I get myself into."

Jane chuckled and Nortin followed his lead nervously.

"One time I took a suspect out for dinner, forgot to mention to Lisbon that they were with me. That had her scrambling for a couple hours," Jane reminisced. Nortin gave out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head.

"But you," Jane continued, "You have to sit around the office all day, you don't get to stretch your legs out much on the field, do you? Not even after working here for eight years."

Nortin's mouth was pressed in a straight line as he nodded ruefully, "Yah, I work pretty hard, but no one seems to notice. I'm just the paper pusher to them."

"Poor Jimmy, how can you still work here after eight years of not being recognized?" Jane asked sympathetically.

Nortin shook his head and shrugged, "It's better here than working the beat or pushing papers around at SFPD or something, I just wish they'd promote me. I've been passed over for a promotion a couple times."

Jane looked surprised, "Really? That's got to really piss you off. I bet they promoted young know-it-alls who've barely even been working here."

Nortin shook his head bitterly, "They sure did. It just pisses me off, but what can I do?"

Jane leaned in conspiratorially and motioned for Nortin to do the same, "Well, I heard Lisbon might be quitting, decided that she wanted to play homemaker. Maybe you can go to Minelli and get that promotion after all. You have the experience, been working here for a long enough time."

At the mention of Lisbon quitting Nortin looked elated and relieved, barely listening to anything else.

Jane was still smiling benignly, "You little spineless cretin."

"What?" Nortin was confused by the change in Jane's attitude; he couldn't have actually heard what he thought he did.

Jane dropped all acts of propriety, eyes glittering dangerously. He remained leaning against the table, but the shift in attitude made Nortin feel as though Jane was towering over him.

"You are a sad and pathetic little man. Did you think you could try blackmailing Lisbon? Even if she resigned, there was no way you would ever be promoted. You keep getting passed over because you're nothing. Years of work and training is the only thing saving you from being canned right on the spot, but believe me, if there's another budget cut and CBI has to 'let go' a few agents, you're on the top of the list. So don't think for even a _second_ that you can do well here," Jane said in a dangerously quiet voice, eyes boring into Nortin's unwaveringly.

"Lisbon's one hundred times the agent you are and always will be. She has more honor and backbone. She went to see Minelli this morning and told him everything about us and guess what? Minelli isn't going to do a damn thing. That's how great she is."

Nortin was sliding in his chair, somehow unable to escape Jane's eyes, frozen to the spot.

"You sniveling little fool. You had to resort to black mail. Get a clue, this isn't the place for you. If I _ever_ hear Lisbon getting another threat, if I _ever_ so much as see you in the same room as her, much less within a ten mile radius of her, I swear I will gut you. Don't think I won't, there isn't much I won't do after what happened to my family. I'm sure you are familiar with Red John? Haven't you ever wondered why they've never caught him? What better place to hide than to hide in plain sight?"

Nortin's eyes widened. He wasn't sure if what Jane was implying was true, but he didn't want to find out. Jane's hand moved then, the agent's eyes following the movement. It was then that he noticed something in the consultant's pocket. Jane took out a military style pocket knife, pulling the blade out, appearing to study it. His hard almost slate colored eyes suddenly fixed themselves on Nortin again as he casually held the knife, "Have you ever wondered how it feels to balance life and death? It can be pretty thrilling."

The knife and Jane's chilling look cinched the deal for Nortin, who had paled and was scrambling out of the conference room.

After Jane was certain the guilty agent was long gone, he allowed himself to relax and laugh. He left the room, closing the blade up, tossing and catching it in one hand. He walked into the bullpen and pitched the pocket knife to Cho. "Thanks for letting me borrow that, those darn boxes were so hard to cut open. You'd think there'd be box cutter around."

"No problem," Cho said, placing the knife inside his desk. He had a strong feeling that Jane didn't cut open any boxes, not with that extra jovial look he had on his face. He shrugged to himself.

Lisbon came out of her office and called the attention of her team before they left for the day, "Hey guys?"

They all looked up and waited expectantly, intrigued by their boss' hesitance. Then an odd thing happened, she appeared to be looking over at Jane for support. He smiled encouragingly and shrugged at her. She straightened up as she faced them, all business.

"Guys, I just wanted to tell you that Jane and I are in a relationship," she said briskly.

Cho looked unfazed, Van Pelt looked on in awe, and Rigsby… well, he was just thankful that he currently wasn't eating or drinking.

"Minelli knows and has decided that as long we maintain a professional-"

Everyone looked at Jane who smiled.

"-relationship at work, he won't be taking any actions," Lisbon's mask slipped as she looked slightly self-conscious, feeling a prickle of guilt as she looked on at Rigsby and Van Pelt, "I'm sorry if this makes any of you feel uncomfortable and if it does please speak up, we can talk about transfers-"

"Boss," Cho interrupted, quickly glancing at the other two agents, "that won't be necessary."

Lisbon cleared her throat, looking awkwardly around her, hands in her pockets, "Well, okay then. Thank you, you can all leave now."

Grace smiled encouragingly at her boss as the others gathered their things and left, "Yoga tomorrow."

"Ah, yah. Bye," Lisbon responded, glad that it was finally over. She looked over at Jane who just sat on his couch, smiling, "You didn't say anything."

"No need," he told her, "I am confident in your abilities."

She snorted, "You just wanted to see me squirm."

"Maybe, but you did well," he admitted, quite humored, "So now we can save on gas starting tomorrow. In fact, we can ride in my-"

"No."

"It's compact and isn't a gas guzzler," Jane whined after Lisbon, she had started walking away towards her office, he followed after her.

"It's a death trap. With you behind the wheel, I'm just asking for trouble," she threw over her shoulder as she picked up her blazer from her desk chair and her bag beside it.

"Nonsense, it's perfectly safe and capable-"

"Jane, there will be no discussion. You may ride in my car with me behind the wheel or you can drive by yourself," Lisbon told him, walking out of her office with the consultant trailing after her.

"But Tereeeesaaaa!"

***

A week later Agent James Nortin transferred out of CBI HQ.


	23. Chapter 22

**Author's Notes:** Wahoo! Over 200 reviews! Thank you all!

My usual thanks go to Yana's excellent editing and support as well as the support of my readers.

mwalter1 (Can't you just imagine Jane like that?), JackSam (Thanks!), Hikaru Ceres (I wonder how long they've all been working together, and I'm not sure if it was ever explicitly said that Lisbon and Cho worked together the longest, but it feels that way.), R. (Thanks!), Ebony10 (Thank you. Yes, I like funny/annoying side of Jane, but he does have that hidden darkness lurking about that's easy to forget about.), MK (Yes, Jane is really a do-it-yourself kind of guy, he had to be growing up from what I could tell. I'm glad you liked it so much, though I wasn't expecting it to be high on favorite chapters list. Yes, Chap. 18 is likely to be one of the more popular chapters. I wonder why… :-P), Simonisthecuttestmentalist (Thanks, yes, perhaps it does sound like I'm hinting around, though I'm not sure I'll actually write one, or perhaps not in this story. It took forever to write Chap. 18 since I haven't really written that kind of thing before *coughcough*.), lisbon69 (Yes, you're not the only one who wouldn't mind another M rated chapter. I think I hear a chorus of "hint hint" in the background somewhere. I wonder what for? :-P We'll see if I get around to a sequel. It took forever to write more for this story alone.)

Thank you all for your support!

**Chapter 22**

"Patrick, have you even _started_ packing anything?" Teresa called out exasperatedly from the bedroom. She wanted to travel light with only one bag, but it was proving difficult since she also had gifts for her nieces and nephew. It didn't look like one carry-on sized suitcase would do. She scowled at it.

"My darling Teresa, I packed my own bag while you were sleeping," Patrick said, coming into the room and studying the mess on top of their bed, the open suitcase, scattered clothing, and four small packages. By her tone, it was clear she had packed and repacked several times unsuccessfully. He came up to her, handing her a mug of coffee and pressed a kiss to the side of her head as she glared down at the pile.

"I have some extra room in my tote bag, I'll repack everything, you just go downstairs and eat something while I figure this out," Patrick told her almost shooing her out of the room as she balked.

"But I don't want you to touch my… underwear," she hissed, looking embarrassed.

Patrick threw a hand up, "Teresa, we have sex, why do you even worry about me seeing or touching your under garments? You are one odd woman!"

Teresa stood stiffly at the bedroom doorway, mouth clamped shut, a blush having colored her cheeks, "I just don't want someone else touching them, okay?"

"Teresa, just go downstairs and I'll take care of this, don't worry," he tried to soothe her, somehow convince her. He ended up walking across the sunlit room and gently guiding her down the hall when she didn't move voluntarily.

The two were preparing for a full week of Thanksgiving activities with the Lisbons in New Jersey. The taxi would pick them up in less than an hour and Lisbon had attempted last minute packing. Jane had briefly entertained the thought of not packing her underwear at all… but he valued his life too much. It was just so tempting since she was so sensitive about them.

Patrick pulled his tote out from under the bed, and then organized Teresa's things. He had everything packed and ready to go in ten minutes, a devious smile curling his lips.

***

The airplane was packed. Several passengers were obviously college students headed home for Thanksgiving, a sea of over packed bags (dirty laundry?), sweatpants, and university hoodies wandering the airport. There were also families, children of all ages, and unfortunately a share of fussy babies on their airplane.

Lisbon was sighing again, patience running thin. They weren't in the air yet, in fact there was a thirty minute delay (originally ten) and babies were already crying. One of the babies they could see from their seats. The mother didn't even appear to care and was talking with her husband. Couldn't she at least rock her baby or something?

Jane could practically hear Lisbon's teeth grinding. She finally couldn't quietly ignore the crying so complained to him, "Can't they even pick their kid up? Try giving it a pacifier? Maybe it's hungry."

He smiled wanly at her, to tell the truth the baby's wailing was getting on his nerves as well. He had an aisle seat, winning the argument that her petite frame would make the center seat better for her, an old woman sleeping in the window seat, hearing aids turned off.

Making his decision, Jane undid the clip of his seat belt and stood up, Lisbon looking up at him, wondering what he was up to. Then he started to walk towards the row of seats with the crying baby.

"Patrick!" she whispered after him, dreading what he may say or do, worrying they were just about to get kicked off the flight… well, maybe he would. There was no way she would let him drag her into this. Subsequently, she sat back and watched quietly.

The woman didn't seem to notice Jane who was standing right next to her. It wasn't until he was reaching for her baby that the woman looked over, "Hey!"

"Lovely child," Jane commented, holding the baby in his arms, bouncing the baby lightly. The little boy (if the blue clothing was anything to go by) at first seemed startled, his big, dark blue eyes staring up at the strange man, then his face wrinkled up to cry again.

"May I borrow this?" Jane asked, not waiting for a response from the flabbergasted parents as he took a washcloth laying on the mother's shoulder, laying it over his own and held the baby up to his shoulder, patting him gently on the back as he continued a light swaying motion. The baby seemed to choke and cough on his own wailing, but finally quieted. Some of the other passengers saw the whole exchange.

"Finally," someone muttered, none too quietly.

Jane lowered the baby, the child staring at him wonderingly, and most importantly, quietly. The man smiled at him then handed him to the mother.

"Handsome little treasure. You take care now, you might want to wipe him up," Jane suggested, handing the spit up rag to the still speechless mother.

Jane walked back, somebody thanked him and he just waved it off, smiling, and came back to sit in his seat.

"Should I add 'baby whisperer' to your resume?" Lisbon asked, grinning, patting his hand on the armrest between them.

"No, just simple parenting," he replied, "Though I could probably repackage it as something new and make millions. Nobody would know the difference. This world is full of rubes."

"The carnie in you speaks," Lisbon joked, rolling her eyes.

"And you love it, don't even try to deny it," he said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.

Lisbon didn't respond, only gave him a small smile.

***

The flight had a connection in Salt Lake City with about an hour wait for the connecting flight. After seven and a half hours of travel, not including the beginning of their journey starting at the ticket counter and security to get on their flight, they arrived at JFK International just before midnight on Saturday. Jane and Lisbon were tired and sore. At the same time, they were glad to be standing, and both still also wished for a soft bed. Baggage claim was swamped; fortunately they were able to bypass that since they only had carryon sized bags. Lisbon craned her neck, standing on her toes, looking for Mikey.

"Teresa, look," Jane pointed over the sea of humanity. They saw her brother checking his watch and looking around. As the two made their way to him, Mikey spotted them and smiled, waving a hand as he covered a yawn.

"Hey Tessa, hey Pat! How was the trip?"

" 'Pat'?" Jane questioned, his face not displeased, but not exactly accepting either.

"Yeah, 'Pat'. Everyone has a nickname. It was either 'Pat' or 'Patty'," Mikey answered with a grin.

At the mention of 'Patty' Jane waved a hand and pursed his lips shaking his head, "'Pat' is fine."

Lisbon smirked, then hugged her brother, "Good to see you."

"The kids really wanted to come, but it's way past their bedtime, they just went to bed grumpy," Mikey told them as he took his sister's bag, ignoring her protests, "Of course the car would have been crowded and I'm sure you guys are tired after that long trip."

The car drive took about an hour, the cities appeared to seamlessly merge together as they passed them, finally arriving in the Lisbons' hometown.

"Welcome to Edison," Lisbon told Jane. There wasn't much to see at this time of night, he could only see the shapes of buildings and trees interrupted by lamplights, bars, and diners.

The house they arrived at was two stories tall, had a tree on the snow dusted front lawn, and was quiet; the living room light was on. The front door opened and a woman stepped out, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cold as she waved. Lisbon hurried through the cold air and greeted the woman, Michael's wife Sue, with a hug. Jane walked a little more sedately and smiled at the woman on the front steps, in turn she held out a hand and he accepted, giving it a light shake.

"You must be Patrick, I'm Sue, nice to meet you," the woman said genuinely as she ushered them all inside, "Let me show you your room, you guys must be tired."

"Thank you," Patrick said, looking over at Teresa and motioning her ahead of him, "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes at him, "How gallant of you."

Sue was a tall woman, or at least easily looked tall when compared to Teresa. She had straight light brown hair that was tied back in a low pony tail, jewel blue eyes, and a soft face that was expected of a mother. She took them down a hall near the kitchen and opened a door.

"Sorry, it's going to be cozy with the two of you in there, but the couch in the living room is a pull out so if you want-"

"Oh no, that's fine," Jane said quickly, taking his and Teresa's bag into the room. Teresa didn't know whether to laugh or be embarrassed. She looked over at Sue whose eyes glittered humorously and let her know that tomorrow they would be talking about her love interest. Teresa almost sighed but instead thanked her.

"The house is free for you to roam, the kitchen is open for you to snack or drink, Tessa knows," Sue said, Mikey behind her, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," said the Californian guests.

The door closed quietly and Patrick looked at the double sized bed and the quilt covers, beside it was a set of drawers with a desk lamp on it and a small card table pushed into the corner across from them. The room really was a tight squeeze, but that was fine, it would really only be used to sleep in.

Patrick looked to Teresa who looked back, "So, want to warm up?"

Teresa shoved his arm, "I'm going to get ready for bed. The bathroom is right next to this room."

They preformed their nightly rituals, changing, brushing their teeth, and settled in for the night. Teresa had known it would be chillier here than back home, but wasn't used to it anymore having lived on the west coast for years. She buried herself in the layers of blankets and around Patrick.

Patrick, feeling her cold feet, protested, "Ah! Get your ice cube toes away from my legs, woman!"

"It's not my fault I have poor circulation and that it's freezing in here, even with the heat turned on," she defended, continuing to attempt warming her feet up against Patrick's shins, "You're warm."

"Maybe you should have wool socks," he suggested, giving up on the fact that she wouldn't move her cold feet away from his legs.

"They stay cold," she stated.

Patrick sighed then ducked under the covers a bit, reaching for one of her feet.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Warming you up, wow, they're really cold," he said as he started rubbing his warm hands, chafing her foot in an attempt to warm it.

"Let's see if they have an electric blanket you can use to warm up the bed for you, in the morning," he suggested after trying to warm both of her feet up. They lay on their sides facing each other, Teresa arms in between them as she pressed up against him, his arms wrapped around her body. Patrick pressed his nose into her hair as she tucked her head under his chin.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."


	24. Chapter 23

**Author's Notes:** Three more chapters guys. Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Thank you yaba for reading, editing, and reviewing!

lisbon69 (I finally finished my quilt a few days ago and then got around to finishing this story!), mwalter1 (How common are the icy feet/toes in women who then try to warm them up on their significant other? Do men with cold toes do the same thing?), MK (Yes, Jane has his moments. Fortunately for him he chose to do the right thing and not be annihilated. Yes, I feel the same as Lisbon. I did laundry with my friend when I lived in the dorms and though we washed our clothes together I still got squirmy about her seeing and touching those particular articles of clothing.), Hikaru Ceres (This was certainly fun to write. It's difficult to imagine Lisbon in "girl talk" mode.), JackSam (Thanks!), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (He can be when he chooses to be.), Ebony10 (Glad it made you melt ), Simonisthecuttestmentalist (Thanks. Yes, there are a couple of people who think there might be something…)

**Chapter 23**

Teresa's eyes opened slowly, her vision was a little unfocused and rather muzzy. It would be easy for her to fall asleep again, though she wondered why she woke up in the first place.

"Aunt Tessa?" a childish whisper called out.

Teresa lifted her head off the pillow, trying to locate the voice, still disoriented. The door creaked and soon the bed dipped and a small, warm body had made its way on top of her. She squinted up to find her six-year old niece coming down to hug her, pressing a kiss on her cheek.

"Sara? What are you doing here?" Teresa asked tiredly, but hugged the little girl.

"Mind introducing me to your little munchkin friend?"

Sara looked over at the larger lump in the bed in surprise, having only concentrated on her "Aunt Tessa".

"Sara, this is Patrick," Teresa introduced, finally sitting up in bed, the little girl in her lap, she yawned. The girl buried her head into her aunt's chest, hiding from the man.

Teresa looked down indulgently at her niece, smoothing a hand through the girl's light, wavy hair.

"Come on, you woke us up, be nice and say 'Good morning' to Patrick. He's not so bad," she coaxed gently.

"Nice to meet you Sara," Patrick greeted kindly, sitting up as well. The hall light turned on, coming into their room through the open door.

"I'm so sorry! Did Sara wake you up?" Sue came in looking very apologetic and relieved, secretly pleased that her precocious daughter didn't interrupt anything.

"It's okay," Teresa said, still smoothing the soft, wavy locks on her niece's head.

"It is not okay," Sue said, bending down and picking Sara up, a scolding sure to take place, "Sara, I told you not to bother them, they came in late last night and still need their sleep! Now tell them you're sorry."

"Sorry," the girl said sullenly, looking down at the floor from her perch on her mother's hip.

"Go ahead and go back to sleep, take your time. There'll be food in the kitchen whenever you're ready to come out and eat," Sue told them as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Sweet girl," Patrick commented.

Teresa flopped back down on the warm bed; Patrick looked at her amusedly, and then followed, kissing her forehead as he laid partially on top of her, arms winding themselves around her torso.

"Yah, she is," Teresa finally said, luxuriating in the warmth of the bed and the heat that practically radiated from Patrick's body. She was content to be sandwiched like this and dozed. It didn't take long for her to fall back asleep.

Though in recent months, Patrick had been able to sleep a little more, catch another hour of unconsciousness where he hadn't been able to before this relationship, he still couldn't stay asleep for long in what would be considered a normal pattern. He kissed the corner of Teresa's sleeping lips and carefully pulled away, tucking her in, and got ready for the day.

Jane quietly made his way to the kitchen, dressed in blue jeans and white dress shirt (tucked in of course), face shaven and hair groomed after a shower. He walked in the open kitchen doorway, the smell of coffee permeating the air, and heard talking. The kitchen had another open entrance into the living room, a marble countertop that separated the two rooms with cabinets attached above, giving a clear view into the other room and the large bay view style windows that let in the morning sunlight and no evidence of snow from last night.

"Good morning Pat," came Michael's voice as he appeared around the corner, a mug in hand, "I heard about Sara. Sorry about that, she was just so excited to see Tessa."

"Oh that's fine, I was already awake anyway," Jane replied, slightly cringing at his new nickname, he found the mugs and chose one for himself from the shelves, "Do you have any tea?"

"Oh? Yeah, in that one," he pointed to a cupboard right next to the off-white refrigerator against the back wall of the kitchen.

"Thanks."

Michael quietly watched Jane put a kettle on the stove top. Jane heard an amused snort come from the Lisbon brother. He turned to look questioningly at the dark haired man who was leaning with crossed arms on the countertop, after taking a seat on the stool on the living room side.

"Sorry, just never would have thought Tessa would have gone for a guy like you," Michael explained.

Jane gave him a wry smile, "A man who prefers tea over coffee? No, I had a hard time convincing her."

"Not just that, and no offense, but you don't look the sort to have done much physical work," the Lisbon brother pointed out.

"No, not much lately," Jane agreed, hearing the kettle start to whistle. He took it off the heating coil, shutting off the stove top and pulled out milk to begin his tea brewing ritual, much to Michael's amusement.

"You're quite the fussy guy, aren't you? I don't think I've seen someone make tea like that," Michael commented.

"Try it sometime, it tastes better," Jane recommended, taking a careful sip of the hot tea.

"If you say so," the brother said skeptically, drinking coffee from his own mug. They heard the faint sounds of a door closing and water running.

"Looks like Tessa finally got up," Michael turned in his seat to see Sue walk by and into the kitchen.

"Good morning, again," she said to Jane, "Sorry about this morning, the kids are playing in their rooms right now."

"Don't worry about, it's what kids do," Jane said graciously.

"So we've got toast, cereal, eggs, bacon, apples, oatmeal… anything you want to eat in particular?" Sue asked, opening up a cupboard and pulling out a plate for him.

"Ah, thank you, if you'll just show me where…?"

***

Lisbon followed her nose to the kitchen after drying her hair and putting on some light make up. The smell of coffee was heavenly and would complete her wake up routine after her shower. There was also a lingering smell of bacon that she found enticing only because it had been so long since she had last eaten. She walked into the kitchen to find Patrick, Mikey, and Sue talking.

"Good morning," she called out and they responded similarly.

"How did you sleep? And I'm really sorry about Sara," Sue said.

"Don't worry about it; it was nice to see her. I slept fine," Teresa replied, pulling out a mug and pouring herself some coffee. She could never be an atheist. Even if she didn't believe in God, she would believe in Coffee. Reviving, heavenly, coffee.

"Hey Patrick? Would you come to the room for a moment?" she could almost hear her brother ask what trouble her boyfriend got into. As it was, the men exchanged glances.

Patrick followed obediently; she closed the bedroom door behind them.

"Where did you pack my underwear?" she asked, eyes flicking up from her mug, deadly serious.

"Oh, I apologize, I forgot to tell you that I had to put them in my bag since yours ran out of room," he said with an "I'm so forgetful!" look on his face. Teresa wasn't buying it. She placed her mug down on the drawers and picked up his tote, dropping it on the bed and unzipped it, Patrick looking on curiously. She found them, an indescribable look on her face, though part of her expression could be described as a look of horror.

"Did you roll our underwear up together?!" she asked in disbelief, just staring down into his tote.

Patrick casually shrugged his shoulders, "It saves space."

Then he had a moment of clarity, an alternate timeline in which she would strangle him, and for a moment he wondered if he actually read Teresa's mind. Instead she zipped the bag up and shoved it under the bed, she would not deal with it right now, she needed to drink her coffee. She picked up her mug and they returned to the kitchen, her brother and sister-in-law looking at them in askance, but wisely decided not to comment.

As Teresa took a sip of her coffee she saw Patrick raise what looked like a sandwich and took a bite out of it. Was that scrambled eggs?

"What are you eating?" she asked.

"Scrambled eggs and bacon sandwich. What? Don't give me that look, fast food places have the same exact thing on their breakfast menus, mine just wasn't frozen, prepackaged, and stale," Jane said, taking another bite. A chunk of egg tumbled out of his… "sandwich".

Michael laughed at the look of disgust on Teresa's face, "Tessa really isn't adventurous with food if you haven't noticed, but really Tessa, it's just scrambled eggs with toast, you can eat it."

"That's just wrong, you have scrambled eggs with toast on the side, it's not supposed to be a sandwich," Teresa said, deciding on cereal, then something caught her eye and she stepped over closer to Patrick, taking a closer look at his sandwich, her eyebrows scrunching down then flying up, "Oh my God, is that jam in there?!"

"What? It's a well rounded meal: carbs, protein, and fruit. I would have added onion for vegetables, but didn't want to bother this morning," Jane defended, taking another bite, smiling at his partner.

Teresa was looking slightly green and walked away with her bowl of cereal and coffee as the men laughed.

"I take it you've never made this recipe back in California," Michael said, nodding to Sue who had followed Teresa to the living room couch.

"Oh I have, just never while she was awake, though it has been a while since I've made it. Just had a craving for it today," Patrick replied.

"Have you ever tried to make soup with potato chips?" Michael asked, a smirk on his face.

"'Potato chips'?" Patrick asked as if he had misheard.

"I'm thinking we could probably put together a bachelor's cook book. I made it once after I met Sue and that was the last time, told me that you can't make good food out of junk food," the tall man shrugged and grinned, "I guess I have to agree with her. I just figured that you could rehydrate chips with milk and it'd be like potato chowder or something. Didn't exactly work, was greasy and salty and after a couple bites my mouth was tingling. Of course it'd be a waste to toss it so I just ate it with bread."

"That's nothing, have you had peanut butter and mustard sandwiches?" Jane leaned in.

"No I haven't, any good?" Michael asked curiously, getting up from his stool to rinse out his mug, setting it in the sink.

"I thought so, at least until I met my wife," the blond man said distantly, finishing up his last bite and brushing off his hands over his plate.

***

"So Patrick, is he fun in bed?" Sue asked quietly. Teresa choked on her cereal and looked at her sister-in-law in astonishment, blushing.

"Sue!" she said, scandalized.

"We barely talk on the phone so I need to get caught up on all the happenings of your life this week," Sue clarified, "Not much time to ease into it, the men are talking to each other and the kids are upstairs."

Teresa looked over the back of the sofa the women were sitting on, finding the men deep in some sort of discussion in the kitchen. She turned back to the expectant Sue. Mikey's wife was kind, caring, and quietly gregarious, if there was such a thing. You wouldn't know it by looking at her, but she had a wicked sense of humor, it just was… hidden.

"He's nice," she said, not willing to divulge further.

Sue smiled at her, "I don't think he seems like a jerk either."

"Oh he is, trust me," Teresa grumbled into her bowl, "Don't let his outward appearance fool you. He works as a consultant for my unit; he can spot tiny little details and figure someone out almost instantly, though his method is totally unorthodox. He loves the attention, loves being right, and his head is so big it can fill up this house."

"Wow, such a scathing critique of your boyfriend, there must be some sort of redeeming quality?" Sue joked, "Which leads back to: is he good in the sack?"

"Shut up Sue!" Teresa said exasperatedly, though she was smiling, "Okay, so one good thing is he's usually a good cook, aside from that mess he's eating this morning, which I've never before seen in my life."

"I see, so you keep him around for his looks and his cooking ability?" Sue teased understandingly.

"Yes, exactly," Teresa smirked, placing her empty bowl on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

"How did you end up together? Mike told me that Patrick stayed by your side in the hospital, but you weren't dating then," Sue had tucked her legs up, sitting sideways, leaning against the back to face Teresa.

"He kind of took care of me while I was recovering, even brought in a dog so I wouldn't get bored in the hospital," Teresa reminisced, smiling into her coffee.

"That sounds romantic," Sue said encouragingly.

Teresa continued, eyes flicking over to watch the men for a moment, "He took me out of the hospital making me believe we were running away. I was so tired and frustrated with him I closed the door in his face, only to find out that he had cleaned up my house after Mikey and the boys left, and had restocked my fridge with home cooked meals."

"Wow. And you call him a jerk?"

"At home and at the office can be pretty different. He's constantly tampering with evidence, making orders without our permission; he's a consultant, not an agent after all. Do you know that I had to field calls almost every day from various lawyers, the DA breathing down my neck because of the troubles he'd cause? That's why he's an egotistical jerk," Teresa completed, but feeling slightly guilty she added, "Although it's gotten better these past few months. We came to an agreement that he would only anger people he truly thought were guilty as long as I share my worries with him."

"Well that's good. I would love to see you guys at work, it sounds like a TV show," Sue commented.

Teresa rolled her eyes, "You wouldn't find it so entertaining if it was happening to you every week."

"But you did bring him with you, here," Sue pointed out, "You must love him."

Teresa looked down, slightly embarrassed, "Yeah."

"Well, that's good! Have you guys set a date yet?"

"Set a-?" then Teresa understood, but gave the other woman a small smile and didn't comment. Sue looked a little ashamed of her excitement, having implied something like that, hoping she didn't hurt Teresa's feelings.

"Don't worry about it," the Lisbon sister said, not even sure herself what she thought about that possible development. She and Patrick were comfortable in their current arrangement; there really was no need to change them.

"My ears are burning," Jane singsonged, both women gave him deer in headlight looks, only confirming his strong suspicions. Predictable. He laughed and took a seat next to Teresa, squeezing in between her and the armrest. Michael sat in the recliner adjacent to the couch next to Sue's side.

"Whatever," Lisbon huffed.

"The only statements that are true are the ones that reflect well on me," Jane informed the other couple, as if in a serious discussion, "My good looks, cooking, and how I can take care of my cute little woman over here."

Jane threw an arm around Lisbon's shoulders as she shook her head, arms crossed, and said under her breath (though loud enough for the other adults to hear), "You are such an ass."

The others laughed then heard the pounding of little feet coming down the stairs, as if in a stampede.

"Aunt Tessa?"

The adults spotted Sara followed cautiously by Terry. A wavy mop of dark hair and blue eyes, the youngest Lisbon boy clearly took after his father's side of the family, whereas Sara seemed very similar to her mother aside from the light wave in her hair.

"Good morning, again," Teresa said to her niece, "Good morning Terry."

Sara came up and sat herself between her mother and her aunt while Terry came and uncertainly hugged his aunt, eyes going over to the strange man next to her. Teresa squeezed her nephew then patted his back.

"Kids, this is Patrick, he's my friend," she explained.

Jane smiled and waved from his relaxed position against the armrest.

"Say 'hello' Terry," his mother urged.

"Hi," the boy said, the awkward silence palpable.

"Do you guys like magic tricks?" Patrick suddenly asked, the children's eyes lit up.

"Yeah!" Sara yelled as Terry nodded.

"Okay, well, it's not really magic, they're called 'illusions'," Jane specified, warming up to the subject, leaning towards them.

"Hey Terry? Can you hear me? I don't think you can hear very well if you-" and Jane put his hand up to the boy's ear, "-have a quarter stuck in your ear."

Sara laughed in delight at Jane's slight of hand, the coin mysteriously appearing out of nowhere. The children inspected the coin, trying to see if it could be bent and wasn't real money.

"Do me! Do me!" Sara said, having migrated to her aunt's lap to get closer to the mysterious man.

"Ah, how about we try something else? I want you to go hide this coin anywhere in the kitchen, then I will read your mind to find it, don't tell me where it is, okay?" Jane instructed, having passed the coin that Terry held to Sara.

"Okay, no peeking!" she told him and waited until his eyes were closed and covered to her satisfaction. Finally satisfied she ran off to the kitchen, drawers and cupboard doors being opened and closed could be heard. Finally they heard her come running back, "Done!"

"Okay, now, don't tell anyone where you put it, but I want you to think very hard about where it is. I need to hold your hand so I can read your mind," he said carefully, holding out a hand. A small, soft hand grasped his fingers and he escorted her to the kitchen, the audience following to watch.

"Hmmm… well, I hope you didn't put it in the sink," the man told the girl, she just giggled. He appeared to be doing some sort of dance with the girl and she just laughed as he had them zigzag across the kitchen floor, taking them away from the target area. Finally he zeroed in, moving her arm up and down, turning her around he walked straight over to the drawers under the bar style counter top. He held a hand above each drawer, keeping an eye on the child's face. He finally touched a drawer, "This one, wait, no this one."

Patrick finally opened a middle drawer and smiled, "Ah hah! Here's your coin."

The Lisbon family clapped and Jane took a bow.

"How did you do that?" Terry asked earnestly.

"I read Sara's mind," he said, an easy smile on his face.

Terry had a slightly troubled look, and Jane leaned in to whisper, "Don't worry, I won't read your mind without telling you. I promise."

The boy looked at Jane suspiciously, but the blond man's disarming smile did the job and Terry gave him a small smile back.

***

The Lisbons and Jane climbed into two cars to do their Thanksgiving grocery shopping. The coming Thursday, they were expecting Kevin, John, their respective girlfriends, and John's daughters. The house was going to be packed, but it usually was every holiday season.

"Two turkeys?"

"No, how about one big turkey and a ham?"

"-can make-?"

"I want pie!"

The store was not too crowded as it probably would be on Wednesday with last minute shopping, but there was still that buzzing in the air of more voices than usual. Michael would need to go to the fire station from Monday until Thursday morning so that he would be able to be home for the latter half of Thanksgiving Day and Friday. The firefighters usually took two day shifts at a time since they had to be on call at all hours of the day. Holidays threw the system into… not chaos, but everyone wanted to be home with their families and lots of bargaining with the others occurred to get valuable time off. Some families pushed their Thanksgiving to Friday or even Saturday.

"So what's the game plan?" Lisbon asked, in business stance: arms crossed, feet shoulder width apart.

"Okay," said Sue, she handed each of the adults a list, Jane took note of the serious air about the Lisbons and realized that this was part of their ritual, something they've likely done almost every Thanksgiving for the last couple of years, "I made these lists based on foods that are probably in the same area of the store from what I could remember. On the menu are turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, cracker vegetable casserole, dinner rolls, marshmallow yams, cranberry sauce, cranberry salad jello, pecan-pumpkin pie, apple pie, ice cream, and Tessa's cinnamon rolls. If you want to make other things go ahead and add them to your list and toss it in your cart. Any questions?"

"Mom, I want apple juice," Terry spoke up.

"Don't worry, that's on the list too," Sue assured him. Jane's eyebrows were lifted. He had never made Thanksgiving dinner before. He could vaguely recall having one in his early childhood when his mother was still alive, before the traveling show. With his father on the road, the closest he got to the holiday was the occasional turkey leg from a vendor, and that was in the summer, in other words, there was no Thanksgiving. It remained that way until he met his wife. They never cooked, in the early years before Jane's career really took off, they would buy prepared dinners from the store, later he would take his small family out to fancy restaurants. Sure, he cooked, but preparing a turkey just seemed too much of a hassle, especially when Diane also agreed it was just easier to buy it prepared.

Getting ready for this holiday, whether it was buying food already premade, or going at it from scratch, really brought the feeling of family that Jane had long been lacking, even after having been living with Lisbon and cooking with, or for, her. He was certain he didn't show any of his feelings, the slight tightening in his chest, he was a master actor after all.

Jane felt a warm hand tug on his, "Let's go," and found a smiling Teresa guiding him away from the other Lisbons to collect a cart to start their shopping.

"Aunt Tessa! Uncle Pat!"

With raised brows both turned to find Terry chasing after them.

"'Uncle Pat'?" Jane whispered to Lisbon questioningly.

"Would you rather be 'Mr. Jane'? Mikey and Sue probably told him to call you that," Lisbon frowned slightly, believing this was part of a devious plot by her brother and sister-in-law. Great. If the kids get used to "Uncle Pat"… '_Definitely subtle guys,'_ she thought at them.

"Mom and Dad said I can go with you guys if you said 'yes'," Terry told them eagerly.

"Let me read you," Jane said to the boy, "You asked your parents for candy and they said 'no' so you asked to go with us in hopes of weaseling candy from us? Is that about right?"

Terry almost visibly wilted and scuffed his foot against the linoleum flooring, caught in his scheme. They could tell he was thinking about lying to them, but when he looked into Jane's steady eyes, he looked down again and admitted, "Yes."

"Good to see you're an honest young man," Jane said and patted him on his small, thin shoulder, "and now since you were truthful with us, I'll be truthful with you. We're not your parents, they let you come with us, so now we can spoil you however we want. Go get some of that candy."

Terry's eyes lit up and practically ran to one of the center floor displays.

"Jane! We can't just undermine-"

"'Uncle Pat'," he reminded her, knowing also some of her other thoughts, especially at the telling glare she sent towards her brother as he and Sue disappeared into the canned foods aisle.

Lisbon relaxed, a small smile pulling at her lips, "You know what, you're right. We're not his parents. We have spoiling rights."

"Glad you see it my way," he said, a devilish grin in place. Terry came back with king sized fruit candy and chocolate bars. The boy was going to have quite the sugar high if they managed to finish shopping before his parents did.

***

After coming back from shopping Terry and Sara (he had thoughtfully picked out some candy for her) were predictably on a sugar high. They were running and playing around the house while Teresa and Patrick sat back and watched until finally the parents suited the children up and kicked them out of the house to run off the extra energy. The unwed couple could only smirk at the parents' weary looks as Mikey whined to his older sister, "You were always the responsible one!"

"Sucks, doesn't it?" she replied uncharacteristically, totally relaxed. Patrick found that she was almost a different person, the total change of atmosphere definitely the cause. They were in her home town with her family, work nowhere in sight.

The children had had their baths after dinner and bid the adults goodnight, they still had three more days of school left ahead of them. Michael went upstairs after them to read bedtime stories since he wouldn't be back home the next three nights. The other three adults adjourned to the living room, each with a glass of wine in their hands.

Teresa leaned comfortably back against Patrick's side, a leg tucked up under her, as they talked with Sue. This new development pleased Jane, it was the first time they sat or touched in such a manner in front of another person. He brought his arm around her shoulders as he sipped his wine.

"Hockey? That's great!"

"Maybe in two more years, if Terry still wants to. Even at the used sports equipment store hockey gear can get pretty expensive. Also I'm worried about him getting hurt," Sue said, frowning, "Mike is all psyched that Terry got interested in hockey and all for it, but I'm not so sure…"

"Well of course Mikey is excited," Teresa said with a sardonic smile, "he's been waiting for Terry to pick up a more 'manly' sport than soccer. You shouldn't worry too much, if Terry gets hurt, I'm sure he'll just get right back up. Boys do survive childhood somehow. At least you'll know he'll be getting hurt with supervision than getting into trouble elsewhere."

Sue rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her head, "That's sadly true."

"Ladies, I am offended. You automatically assume boys get into trouble," Jane acted hurt, placing his free hand on his chest in dismay.

Lisbon turned, piercing him with her eyes, "You're a sterling example," she then turned back to Sue, leaning towards her, Jane's arm dropping from her shoulders.

"This little-" she turned and flicked his ear causing him to exclaim in pain, covering his offended ear, his wounded puppy face was ignored, "-angel, causes me trouble at least once a week. Just last week, he handled unprocessed evidence and of course _I_ had to clear up the whole mess and prove that _he_ wasn't one of the murder suspects. Not only do I have to provide his alibi, which had to be confirmed by my boss and team, but then I had to explain to the DA how Jane's fingerprints got onto the evidence in the first place without it appearing as if he was planting evidence in the crime scene!"

Sue's look of disbelief morphed into humor, "You call him 'Jane'?"

"What? That's his name," Lisbon said, sidetracked from the building righteous fury.

"Nobody gets confused when you call him 'Jane' and wonder where the woman is?" Sue clarified.

"Har har," Jane said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, fingers still rubbing the ear Lisbon flicked.

"It's how it works at the office, we call everyone by their last names," Teresa explained.

"Not just the office," Jane joined, leaning forward himself, glancing over at his girlfriend calculatingly, "whenever she gets frustrated with me, even at home, she calls me 'Jane'."

"So what? We were coworkers before we started dating, it's natural I'd call you by the name I'm used to," Teresa defended, leaning back against the couch now, arms crossed against her chest.

The corners of Jane's mouth turned upwards. Revenge is so sweet.

"Yes, I suppose so. It's a good thing we started dating, but honestly, it could kill the mood. Yelling 'Jane' when we're having s-"

"SHUT UP!" Teresa was bright red and had clapped hands over Patrick's mouth, mortified. Sue was only shocked for a moment before she started laughing, following Jane's lead, who was already laughing under Lisbon's palms, Michael happened to come back to the living room at this moment.

"What did I miss?"


	25. Chapter 24

**Author's Notes:** Two more chapters after this one guys! You know, I just realized that With this story ending on 26 chapters, that's twice the chapters of Blue Memories which had 13 chapters, but already it's more than twice the words I think.

Thank you for reviewing! lisbon69 (Yes, those of us across the pond must be afflicted by underwear insecurity… I'm glad you liked the last chapter.), xxxBekaForEvaxxx (Thanks! Lisbon didn't find the ending hilarious though. I wonder why? :-P), mwalter1 (You know, I thought there were a couple of traditions in America that were universal across the land, but just the other day I found out about Groom Cake. Apparently in the South they serve Groom Cake which can be anything like cheesecake, chocolate cake, etc., and it is either served at the reception on another table from the main wedding cake or it could be served at the rehearsal dinner. I think it's a good idea, but I love cake.), MJ2387 (Thanks, glad you liked the last chapter. Hmm, we'll see if I write a sequel to this one, I think it's getting to be a bit much with this sequel as it is, but then again it is fanfic…), JackSam (Thanks!), Ebony10 (Glad you liked Lisbon's religion of Coffee :-P), Simonisthecuttestmentalist (Glad you liked the chapter enough to cause spontaneous hugging.), MK (I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter and it made you laugh several times. I think the breakfast sandwich isn't bad, but I'd never put jam in it. Have fun with your niece and nephew, you have spoiling rights. When I was little my aunt would try to sneak me some money when Mom wasn't looking… actually the aunts on my mom's side of the family all seemed to try to sneak money/candy to the kids while the parents aren't looking… lol! Good luck with spoiling yours!)

**Chapter 24**

Teresa didn't slam their door in his face, nor did she kick him out of their room, she was too embarrassed as a guest to have Mikey and Sue find Patrick sleeping on the living room couch. The blond man did apparently sense her inner conflict, for he entered their room cautiously after her, wondering if she would whisper heated words at him in private. They quietly got ready for bed and he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Patrick gave Teresa her space as she pushed passed him to brush her teeth while he was still dressing, storming past him as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The room was pitch black, save for the meager light provided by what slipped around the curtains and through the crack in the door. He slowly walked in and closed the door all the way, carefully made his way up to his side of the bed, which wasn't difficult with this small room, and tried not to disturb the bed too much as he slid in under the sheets. Her back was to him and much of the covers were tucked in around her body, forming a physical barrier. His throat felt dry and thick as he tried to swallow. Though she hadn't banished him from their room, he felt that it would almost feel better than lying right next to her like this.

The bed sheets didn't come around fully on his side, leaving a small space that allowed the cool air of the room draft in on his left arm and leg as he lay on his back. He turned his head to Teresa's back side, though they had used the electric blanket to heat up the mattress for her feet; he knew she must be a bit chilled. However, she was stubborn enough to ignore her discomfort since otherwise it meant acknowledging him. She wouldn't do that of her own volition.

The silence was deafening, even the house seemed to be holding its breath; he couldn't hear the hum of electricity or the building settling. Not even the passing of cars outside. It made his breathing sound all the more louder in his ears as it resonated in his head, bouncing against his thoughts.

Really, she was overreacting. She knew he was teasing her, though the statement had been true… but it was just the way he was. She knew that by now. They were among her family, not coworkers and superiors, where this sort of talk would be deemed very inappropriate. She really should have even expected that he'd say something after all the bashing he received from her about the stunts he pulled at work… He sighed internally. No, really, he should have seen this coming. It wasn't as if she was so open about her personal life. This day had been the first time she touched him noticeably, leaned against him, in front of others. To mention any part of their sex life without her leading was a serious offense in her eyes.

Patrick slowly brought a hand up to Teresa's shoulder and felt her tense and swat his hand away.

"Teresa," he whispered.

She didn't respond.

Well, it wasn't like he was trying so hard to embarrass her. He had found it cute that she would call him "Jane" even in bed, depending on the circumstance. She really shouldn't be offended. He was really relaying how he adored her slip up when he mentioned it to Sue. Really.

He tried again to place a hand on her shoulder. The same result, she tensed and smacked him away.

"Teresaaa," he whispered forlornly, rolling onto his side towards her.

"No," she said firmly.

"But I'm cold and I know you are too," he told her.

There seemed to be no reaction.

He tried again, "Teresa."

He heard an aggravated sigh and suddenly she was sitting up, pulling the top cover off the bed. He caught her wrist and she struggled against him in the dark.

"Let go!" she hissed, "You won't leave me alone so I'm going to the couch!"

"No, Teresa you're overreacting," he calmly told her, which only riled her up even more.

"Screw you!" she furiously spit at him, managing to whisper such venom.

"Teresa, calm down or you'll wake up the house," Patrick said, having pulled himself to the edge of the bed, grabbing her around the waist. She hit him.

"Let go!"

"I won't until you calm- owowowowow!"

Teresa had found his pinky finger on the hand at her waist and was bending it back in warning.

"Okay _Jane_, listen up. You embarrassed me. You spoke about _our_ personal time in the bedroom. You think it's all shits and giggles and it's _fine_ in front of my family. Well it's not. You know me. You know how much my privacy means to me. My _brother_ heard what you said and no way in _hell_ do I want _him_ or any of the others to know _anything_ about my sex life. You think I'm overreacting. I have spent almost my entire life trying to keep what privacy I have private. Do you know what it's like to have your entire life on display? My mother's death, my dad's alcoholism, the abuse, the poverty, everyone despising and pitying us, knowing what's going on. My dad's death where the police and social workers finally confirm, publicly, about the abuse people already knew and ignored. Me trying to get custody of my brothers, even the police academy knew my story as soon as I got there. All the whispering. Do you _know what it's like?!_"

"Yes," was the simple statement.

The hot pounding blood became ice as she realized who she was speaking to. She had stopped struggling and his arms had dropped. The sliver of light caught his eyes as he looked up at her somberly.

Of course he knew. His wife and daughter had been brutally murdered by an infamous serial killer. He had been an up and coming televised psychic, a small time celebrity that the tragedy had visited. It would have been more sensational news than that of any ordinary man. The media would have tried to dig up anything they could. How he managed to keep his time in the mental ward under wraps was a miracle.

"I'm sorry," Teresa said quietly, "Of course you know."

Patrick shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Patrick," she said again, resting her hand on his shoulder, "You're right, I was overreacting."

"Do you feel better?" he asked, placing a warm hand atop of hers.

She shook her head miserably.

"You've been keeping that in for a long time, haven't you?" he asked, knowingly. He almost wanted to be angry that she had lashed out at him, but somehow, even with the role reversal, he knew that it had nothing to do with him, not really. His comment just happened to be the final straw that demolished the proverbial camel.

"So does this mean you'll be my love slave for a month?" he tried to lighten the mood. It didn't work. He sighed and tugged her back to bed and she complied. He pulled the covers up around them as Teresa seemed to plaster herself against him, even kissing his neck apologetically.

He just couldn't get mad at her now. He was almost to the point of annoyance with himself. He breathed in and out slowly. No, he didn't have the energy to be angry, it wasn't worth getting indignant over this, since she admitted she was wrong and he knew her anger was largely displaced and provoked by his joke. He felt her timidly finger the buttons of his pajama top, pressing another kiss at the opening near his neck. His arms were wrapped around her securely, body wholly relaxing beneath her touch. He was starting to get too old for this much drama.

"I'm sorry I told them," he said finally and felt her arms encircle him as she buried her head against his chest.

"Being back here… it just all came back," her whisper was muffled, "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"I'm sorry I set you off. Can we stop saying we're sorry already?" he spoke into her hair, wry humor saving him.

There was a long silence.

"I just said 'Jane' just once, just that one time."

Patrick chuckled at her slightly petulant tone, knowing she was finally feeling better.

"And I'm glad I was able to get you to, though I do admit it would have been nice to hear 'Patrick' the first time you called out my name in bed," he replied, humor back in full swing. He could almost feel the heat radiate off her face into his chest.

"Idiot."

"I love you too my dear Lisbon," he told her, kissing the top of her head. He felt her move against him, her head coming up to face him, their mouths met in a languid kiss. They pulled back slightly and he felt her right hand leave his side to run it gently through his curly hair.

"You're still an idiot."


	26. Chapter 25

**Author's Notes:** Just one more chapter after this one. Thanks to all of you hanging in there and continuing to read and review this story! Special thanks to yaba/Yana who has continued to support and edit for me!

Thank you dear reviewers! mwalter1 (I loved writing in those lines. But I hope everyone can understand, I mean, most of the time she had known him was as "Jane" not "Patrick" and she continues to call him Jane at work despite their relationship change. :-P), JackSam (Thanks!), Ebony10 (Cho's one liners are pure gold! "All I can get with one phone call is a pizza" in that deadpan voice. He's great! Glad you still liked Lisbon's though.), Hikaru Ceres (Maybe Jane is a bit of a push over in my stories. I'm glad you're referring to this story as a "good thing".), lisbon69 (Everyone has issues on the Mentalist, the only one we don't see much of is Rigsby. Or, technically, Van Pelt, but we know something was going on when Jane read her early on, saying something about her past she doesn't think about. As for traditions, I suppose our Thanksgiving, I wouldn't know what else would be different since I don't know all the English traditions to differentiate from, but I'd love to learn about them as well. I think many Americans with light accents such as Pacific Northwest people may have a fascination with those who have harder accents, from US southerners to British to Australian and so on. I sometimes find it quite charming. , MK (I'm glad several people are interested in a trilogy. I won't promise anything, but I'll see… I'm glad people found my interpretation of their relationship and Lisbon's personality palatable.)

Thanks again!

**Chapter 25**

Monday Teresa and Sue showed Patrick around town, informing him enthusiastically of the changes and renovations the town underwent over the years.

"Edison, as in the light bulb Edison?" Jane asked as if making sure they were serious.

"Yah," said Lisbon.

"Well that explains all the… light bulb imagery around here," Jane gestured around him in general as they strolled down the sidewalk.

"Weird, I know. I think everyone who grew up here was required to write a report on him one time or another. We're indoctrinated from an early age," Teresa said derisively.

"Terry did that in third grade," Sue informed them.

"Oh God, and the science fairs!" Lisbon exclaimed, hands up in the air. They all chuckled. Jane could only imagine all the electricity and light related experiments that would have been on show every year.

"Are you ladies up for some ice cream?" Jane suddenly asked, spotting an ice cream parlor.

The thought made Lisbon shiver as she pulled her jacket in closer to her body, the sky was a clear blue that made it look deceptively warm, but temperatures were in the forties, "Are you kidding me? It's winter and it's freezing!"

Jane shrugged, "Nah, ice cream can be enjoyed whenever; you can even eat it inside the store if you don't want to walk around with a cone."

Sue just watched them argue the merits of ice cream in New Jersey winter.

"You guys make a cute couple," Sue finally said. Her comment made both Teresa and Patrick stop and look back at her.

"Uh, thanks?" Teresa said.

Patrick smiled and looped an arm around the petite woman, "I know, although I prefer that we be called a 'striking couple' or even an 'attractive couple'. Well, Teresa here is 'cute' though I think I am quite dashing. Maybe we can even be a 'fetching pair'."

Teresa made an aggravate noise as she rolled her eyes, arms crossed in front of her, a typical 'Lisbon' pose.

"How about we just call you 'full of hot air' and be done with it?" Lisbon quipped.

"You wound me!" Jane said with an exaggerated hurt expression, hands to his chest.

"Is it like this all the time?" Sue asked them, Jane leading them into the ice cream parlor to buy himself a treat. He went ahead to the ice cream selection while the women hung back, talking.

"No- I mean sometimes, well, yes. At least a lot at work, sometimes at home, okay, maybe everywhere," Teresa admitted. They watched as Jane studied the ice cream flavors carefully, even asking for samples.

He held three sample spoons in his hand before finally making a decision: vanilla. They could actually see the young woman behind the counter struggle to maintain a neutral friendly face. Teresa knew exactly how she felt.

Sue shook her head, a smile plastered on her face, "Is he always like that?"

"Yup."

"Does he like me or did you threaten bodily harm if he acted that way around the family?" Sue asked, looking over at her sister-in-law.

"I threatened him."

Sue's eyebrows crinkled, her smile twisted to hold in a laugh.

Teresa looked over at her, "Oh don't take it the wrong way, he's like that with me and he's told me he loves me, it's just the way he is. He likes you guys, but I also had him promise me he would behave."

Patrick came to them with an ice cream cone in one hand and two paper bowls and set them down on a table next to the women, "Warm brownies, they're usually part of a brownie sundae, but I was able to have the young lady not put ice cream on these."

"You're my new best friend Patrick," Sue said, patting him on the shoulder, "Thank you."

He looked slightly put out, "I already thought we were best friends."

They sat down at the small table, the women across from each other and Jane in between on the end. Sue smiled and shook her head, Patrick smiled as he licked his ice cream. Sue looked over at Teresa, "I don't think I ever would have pictured you with a guy like this, but somehow it works."

Teresa's mouth pulled a bit to the side in a slight frown, "I don't think I ever would have pictured myself with a guy like him either."

"Ladies, I'm right here," he reminded them, waving a little. He was ignored.

"Did I mention he can hypnotize people? Quite often illegally," Teresa finally looked over in his direction, he gave her a look of innocence, and then she returned her attention back to Sue.

"Ever wonder if that's how he got you to agree to go out with him?" Sue asked conspiratorially, leaning over her half eaten brownie.

"Sometimes."

"Oh come on, you love me!" Jane exclaimed, grabbing Teresa's hand, "You'd die without me!"

"Don't count on it buster," Lisbon smirked, thankful that no one else was in the ice cream parlor with Jane's overly dramatic displays.

"Well maybe you don't need your brownie anymore," he said, reaching for her bowl. Her hand stopped his quickly, "Uh uh, not so fast. Fine, I'd die without you."

"Can you say the other part?" he asked, Sue was just sitting back and watching the show, they were so amusing and she never saw Teresa quite like this.

"What other part?" she teased.

His hand moved.

"Fine…"

"I don't hear you," Jane said, "Do I really have to bribe you with this brownie?"

Teresa glanced over at Sue, slightly embarrassed, then rolled her eyes, reciting the words petulantly, "I love you."

"See, that wasn't so hard," he said with a triumphant smile, leaning back, down to his cone now.

They walked around a bit more after that then got back to the car to drive past her old high school.

Tuesday, while the kids were at school, they started baking pies. On Wednesday night John would come over with his two daughters and girlfriend to stay the night. They would need to leave early Thursday evening so he could drop the kids off at his ex-wife's family for dinner. Kevin would come on Thursday with his girlfriend, someone Teresa had not yet met before.

So that there would be more time to catch up with the other brothers and to free up cooking space in the kitchen for the main dishes that needed to be made hot and fresh it was best to get what cooking and baking they could before Thanksgiving.

Wednesday evening when John, his girlfriend, and children came it was a chaotic gathering of hugs and laughter. The children (Marina aged ten and little Layla aged four) were introduced to Patrick as "Uncle Pat" by the other Lisbon children, who then regaled Marina with the stories of how he could read minds and pull coins out of thin air. Marina was unimpressed.

The whole scene made Jane feel like an outsider, he always was. He had always been separated from the group. Even when he surrounded himself with fake people who were attracted to his talent and natural charisma, there was no real connection. He was pulled into the reality of the moment when Teresa's hand found him, grounding him. He stood next to her for a moment, before she pulled him along into the living room, almost breaking the invisible barrier between him and everybody else so effortlessly.

Sometimes later, Jane found himself sitting opposite John-John with a beer in his hand, watching in silence as the women talked animatedly. The middle Lisbon brother saluted him with his brew and Patrick responded, taking a sip. The woman John-John brought with him seemed energetic. Her name was Tanya and she wore loose cargo pants and a knit top. Her hair was black, tied up in a messy pony tail, exposing some sort of Chinese character tattooed to the back of her neck and drawing attention to the many piercings lining her ears. She gave a very granola vibe and Jane wouldn't be surprised if he were to find out that she played guitar and rock climbed. He could see the calluses on her hands. Yup, that confirmed it. That and she brought gelatin dessert.

Sue suggested that the kids show Marina their rooms, but John's daughter whipped out her mp3 player and was clearly searching for a secluded spot that didn't involve her cousins. She was in fifth grade and didn't want to be stuck watching over her younger relatives. Layla clung to her father and seemed rather disconcerted by all the loud talking. Patrick smiled at the little one, but she hid her face in her father's thick torso, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as if attempting to bury herself. John-John was quietly patting her back, then looked to the man sitting next to him.

"You came," he said.

"Yes," Jane answered.

"Good."

They listened to the women who had moved to the kitchen counter bar stools so they could have ready access to some snacks, dinner being a very informal affair tonight. Sue, Teresa, and Patrick had set out finger food and plates before the John-John clan came so that people could graze as they wanted. They would all be gorging tomorrow anyway.

"How old?" Jane asked, nodding to Layla, her hair as dark as her father's, similar to Teresa's.

"Four," was the short reply from the quiet man. Jane nodded. Layla seemed to have relaxed a bit, no longer clinging as much and peeking up at Patrick every once in a while, hiding her face when he caught her looking. He pretended not to notice after the first couple times.

"Quiet child?"

"Yup."

'_Just like her father,'_ Jane internally commented, amused.

"Tessa looks good," John finally said, staring at the television that was switched onto a nature channel.

Ironically, it was a special on turkeys.

"She'd doing well."

"Michael talked to you?" John asked, glancing over at the blond. Jane looked raised his eyebrow quizzically and the quiet man grunted, looking down at his small daughter resting against him, probably tired from the car trip and the excitement, "You're living with her."

"Yes," Jane said cautiously, he now knew where this talk was going to lead, but found the brother sitting relaxed and not saying anything.

"Keep her happy," John-John said.

"I will."

***

Thursday morning they found that Mikey was able to be home the whole day, he just had to be on call during the morning hours. Everyone had a simple breakfast. There would be no lunch, but they would eat around three o'clock as soon as the bird was done cooking, which would give everyone enough time to eat and relax a bit before John-John would have to take his kids to his ex-wife's in New York.

Kevin came just before noon with his girlfriend Lily, a bottle blond. As soon as Jane saw her, he knew Teresa would not like her. The woman greeted them politely enough, was chewing gum, and the smell of cigarettes wafted off both her and Kev. Hmmm. Since Jane knew the youngest Lisbon adult didn't smoke, it was little more than possibility that Lily had smoked on their car ride over here. He saw Teresa's nose twitch, not very noticeably, but since he had been awaiting her reaction, he spotted it.

Then there was the way this Lily barely acknowledged the kids, like they were some annoying little lap dogs she needed to greet to amuse the owners. Jane wasn't fond of her either, to put it lightly.

He could just see Teresa itching to interrogate her youngest brother regarding this woman: where did they meet? What did he see in her? Why was she here?

She was almost visibly restraining herself for the sake of maintaining family harmony.

Jane almost snorted. Popular culture often dictated family holidays be rife with discord, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. He almost wished something _would_ happen. Actually, by the resolved look on Teresa's face, she may be waiting until after they've eaten so as not to spoil everyone's appetite. He was almost rubbing his hands together in the prospective excitement. He thrived on watching people and their interactions, this may be Teresa's family, but things were getting boring. There was no way a collection of family and extended relatives could be under one roof without some sort of tension or argument.

Of course, since he was here, there was one less thing for Teresa to be tense about. The other women, her brothers, even her nieces and nephew, wouldn't be bugging her about a having a boyfriend… although now the pressure was about marriage. In addition to hints from both Michael and John to him personally, Sue seemed to have touched on the subject as well with Teresa. He knew this because he had caught them both glancing at him, Sue with a not-so-secretive smile and Teresa with her signature eye roll and look of annoyance. Sue had actually winked at him when Teresa had her back to them and rather comically pointed at her ring finger while mouthing silently, "When will you?"

The Lisbons weren't very subtle.

The only person seemingly not putting on any sort of that nonsense was Kevin, but then again Kevin wasn't married, had never been married, and didn't have children. Maybe children and marriage was the key to this obsession. Sure, John was divorced, but he had two daughters he clearly loved, and a woman that he was comfortable with and they would likely reach the point of marriage in the next year or two. It would probably be officiated by a friend or justice of the peace in a cozy chalet or park. Layla would make a cute flower girl, though she would probably have to be picked up and held by her father, or someone else she trusted, during the ceremony.

"Hey Patrick, I've got a job for you!" Teresa called out from the kitchen. Jane turned towards her from the living room couch, the children were glued to the television watching Peanuts, with even Marina, the eldest of the bunch was drawn in by the classic cartoon specials. He pushed himself up and walked towards the kitchen, all sorts of smells wafting out.

He saw Teresa cutting bacon strips in the long quarters, she looked up at him with a greasy pair of cooking scissors in her hand and pointed at a package of miniature frank sausages and the strips of cut bacon, "Roll the sausages with the bacon."

Jane looked questioningly at the ingredients, "Isn't meat wrapped in meat a bit redundant?"

"Don't question it, just do it!" Lisbon snapped, some of the building frustration leaking out on him.

He held his hands up in his typical placating manner, "Okay, you're the boss," and just as he reached out for some bacon…

"Wash your hands first!"

Patrick was shoved into the corner of the kitchen, rubbing shoulders with Teresa as they rolled the mini franks with bacon, placing them in a small casserole dish, setting each piece of meat against each other so they wouldn't unravel. Teresa had finally explained that after all the sausages were rolled up in bacon they would be topped with some brown sugar and baked. It was something their grandmother had made for the holidays that the boys liked. It was also likely to cause diabetes and gout, but Jane didn't mention that, then again maybe that's why it was only served on holidays.

John had been put in charge of making the yams, Kevin was mashing potatoes, Sue and Tanya were making the green bean casserole, while Michael was in and out of the kitchen watching the turkey and relaxing, his job of preparing the bird and making gravy (with the giblets) completed. The kids would be in charge of making the dinner rolls, but that would be basically the very last thing to do since they baked quickly. There was a lot going on in the kitchen and tension was becoming apparent from the close quarters. There was also the old adage of having too many cooks in the kitchen coming into play.

The kids were settled around the living room coffee table for the meal while the adults squeezed in around the dining table. There wasn't a formal grace, the Lisbon siblings not having done so since their childhood, but they had their own tradition of naming something they were thankful for. One by one they took their turns, keeping it simple, chuckling a little at Sara's list of things that included candy and the obligatory "family" added at the end.

The early dinner conversation at the adults' table varied from occupations (for Lily's benefit) to new movies coming out. The ebb and flow of talking touched on family traditions, Jane expertly deflecting such questions and turning conversation away from himself as he sat back and watched. Tensions from cooking eased and friendly bickering took front stage. Teresa was smiling and laughing so much, relaxed and enjoying herself far more than under normal circumstances, as Jane was used to seeing her at work, everyday. Patrick knew, however, that it was only like this now because the family didn't see each other day in and day out, just the holidays. Still, it was nice to see.

Time slid by quickly and John had to collect his children and head out with Tanya. Hugs, handshakes, and kisses were exchanged as Sue gave them containers of food to take home. The house became slightly subdued with the loss of four people.

Patrick was able to tell that Teresa's opinion of Lily slightly rose when the younger woman offered to help with the dishes and actually started washing them. It still didn't discount the perceived attitude she had towards children and the smoking habit, but Lily was blissfully unaware of the marks against her.

***

"They met at a skateboard expo," Teresa told Patrick in bed. The lights were off in their temporary bedroom. Both lay on their backs, facing the ceiling, "Does she even know what a skateboard is? Is it a fashion thing?"

Patrick knew she wasn't expecting him to answer and just let her talk. She finally heaved out a great sigh and turned on her side towards him, wrapping an arm around his chest. He turned his head towards her and shared a kiss goodnight. She pulled back but he followed her, pressing another kiss to her soft lips as he rolled over onto her.

"Patrick, no," she said gently, pushing him back. As much as she wanted to give in she just couldn't do that in her brother's house with children present, even if they were in the floor above them and not in the next room.

"Oh come on Teresa," he whined, " I know you want to. We can be quiet, no one has to know that we ever did anything other than sleep in here."

He stayed against her and sighed into her neck, her disapproving silence was an answer. He had been behaving well all week and had lots of pent up energy and stress. It was hard work being good.

The blond man caressed her hip with his left hand.

"Patrick," Teresa said warningly, stilling his hand with hers over it. He started suckling and nipping at her neck only for her to push him away after muffling a groan. If he wasn't already lying down, he would have slumped in defeat. Under normal conditions he wouldn't have been deterred, it wasn't too difficult to get her to come to his way of thinking since they were usually of one mind when it came to this. He would have given it a shot if there would be the slightest of chances she would lift the no-sex-under-her-brother's-roof embargo, but the determined look in her eye was extra obvious tonight.

"Just two more nights Patrick," she reminded him (and her) soothingly after she was certain he wouldn't try seducing her again. Teresa heard him grunt noncommittally and believed she could see him pout. She gave him a peck on the cheek and settled into his side once more, "You've been really good this whole week. Thanks."

His arm came up around her to play with her dark, slightly wavy hair. They would be visiting her mother's grave tomorrow and would be flying home the day after. He was waiting for many things, had been waiting, but perhaps opportunity would present itself soon for at least one of them.


	27. Chapter 26

**Author's Notes:** Thank you all for reading! This is the final chapter for this particular story. Even though this is the end I still would appreciate comments so please don't be shy!

Thanks go to yaba/Yana for being my editor for this whole story and to those who have read and left comments for me. lisbon69 (Glad you liked the last chapter! Good luck with the care of your huge extended family of humans and fuzzy things. ), mwalter1 (It's "only" the five of you? Not bad at all. During college I went around for Thanksgiving since I went to school out of state and my college only gave us the Thursday and Friday off plus the weekend. Other colleges get the full week. So I went to my great uncle's house which was nearby, been to my friend's grandmother's house, and my college friend's house. I learned a couple different recipes from that and different traditions. All tasty. The mini sausages wrapped in bacon was something my great aunt made. Consequently she used to be a nurse and I believe she's diabetic, but doesn't really eat the stuff she makes, it's for the rest of us to enjoy.), Country2776 (Thank you!), JackSam (Thanks, and here's the last chapter.), Hikaru Ceres (Thanks for sticking around!), Ebony10 (I'm glad it made you laugh so hard. I didn't know I had that much power.), Simonisthecuttestmentalist (Well, read and find out. Thanks!)

Read and enjoy! Sorry it's short.

**Chapter 26**

The day was clear, the sky a blue that fit its name, despite the nip in the air that belied the image of warmth the sun portrayed. Jane and Lisbon walked alone across the winter dulled grass lawns, autumn leaves still pervading the grounds. Sue had lent them her car for the day, the drive to the cemetery took about half an hour. Lisbon held a bouquet of flowers in her arms as the two quietly made it to her mother's grave site, which incidentally was her father's as well, though his name was not recorded when she had scattered his ashes here many years ago.

"Lovely place," Jane commented, sighting the trees surrounding the perimeter. It was as peaceful as a cemetery should be, didn't have main roads right next to it, the trees stood absorbing any other sounds it seemed except for a light rustling of the mostly bare branches when a gentle breeze passed through them. Lisbon only nodded in acknowledgment.

Jane could tell they were close as Lisbon's steady gait slowed; she was now actively searching the area for her mother's headstone. She came to a stop and stooped down, brushing dry leaves off of the flat piece of granite set against the ground. Jane stood beside her and looked down at the simple stone, all that was carved into it was a name, dates of birth and death. That was all.

After the area was cleared to Lisbon's liking, she set the flowers down and stayed sitting on her calves. Jane was just about to step away to give her some privacy when she stood up and took his hand in hers, still observing her mother's grave quietly.

Jane didn't believe in the afterlife, didn't believe in a higher power. When you died, you were fertilizer and that was it. Visiting a loved one's gravesite was purely for the grieving person's benefit as the dead was no longer aware nor cared if you visited them or not. He did not say a word of his views to Lisbon however, he knew it was important to her, he knew she was already aware of what he thought and had told him earlier that she would be going. For him to come along was optional, though she wasn't particularly surprised when he said he would come. He was the first non-relative she brought with her to visit since her mother was first placed in the ground. And though she did not say this, Jane knew and was quietly honored.

Jane looked over at Lisbon's bowed head then looked down at the stone. Though he didn't believe, he decided it wouldn't hurt to ask for her blessings as there was nothing to lose and sent a silent message. Teresa finally stepped back from the grave plot and Jane led them to a stone bench nearby to enjoy the view. The seat chilled them a bit, perhaps Jane more than Lisbon since she wore a long coat to guard against the cool air. They sat quietly, a few small birds fluttered around from branch to branch, their song interrupting the silence from afar. Jane rested against the back of the bench seat and settled an arm around Lisbon's waist, bringing her against him lightly.

After a while he looked over at her, slightly raising an eyebrow and pursed his lips a bit. With his free hand he dug into his pants pocket, fingers wrapping around the small item that had been sitting in his pocket for weeks now. He looked down at it in the palm of his hand then kissed the top of Teresa's head. She looked up at him questioningly as he brought his hand around in front of her.

"Want to pick out a date?"

She quirked her brows quizzically at him, eyes showing a brilliant light green in the clean light of day, then looked down at his open palm, his other warm arm still wrapped around her. The sunlight glinted off the gold and what she could only imagine to be an emerald with two tiny diamonds set on either side of it. She looked up at him again only to find his green eyes intently studying her face for her reaction. She opened her mouth then closed it. She brought her arms around him and pulled him into a fierce hug, her head resting against his shoulder. His arms came around her, the arm previously around her waist now stroking the back of her head.

"This isn't your way of letting me down gently and telling me 'no' is it?" he joked, though the question sounded much more serious than he meant it to, his nerves seeping through the calm façade. He cleared his throat and spoke again, "Just to make it clear, I _am_ asking if you'd do me the honor of becoming my wife. Not that it'd change much since we already live together, I just thought you might appreciate it being official and being made an honest woman, and your brothers-"

Teresa finally pulled back, stopping him mid-stammer, a serene smile on her lips, lips that were on his, silencing him momentarily. When she pulled back, her lone dimple was on display next to a more beatific smile, eyes dancing.

"Yes."

Patrick's answering smile lit up his whole face, then he realized he hadn't yet placed the ring on her finger. He searched out her proper hand and held it between them as he slid the dainty jewelry onto her petite finger, kissing her knuckles after it was on. She admired the ring for a moment before looking up at him again, his smile having transformed into that of almost boyish glee.

Teresa turned to face forward again, leaning back against Patrick, looking down at the foreign object residing on her finger. She was glad the stones weren't too big; it wouldn't do for them to get caught on something while she was working. It appeared Patrick had taken that into consideration, though she imagined she might still remove it when going out in the field.

"I'm not sure I want to tell anyone that you proposed to me in a cemetery," she finally said; his arms came around in a warm embrace, palm rested low against her stomach, "They'll believe it most likely, but really, the cemetery?"

She could feel him shrug behind her and hear his smile in his voice, "Meh, it's just another place, you just now have a happy memory to associate with visiting your mother. I discussed it with her, obviously she approves."

She turned to look back at him from the corner of her eye, "God you're weird."

"Hey now, you're marrying me remember? Who's the weird one?" Jane said affectionately, pecking her on her nose. She shook her head almost in a long suffering way, rolling her eyes, though she was practically glowing.

"Come on, let's go home."

The end


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